A good day to say "good-bye."
It is hard to conceive of this notion, but there was a good day to say, "goodbye."
Last Thursday was chilly, windy and overcast. Not the dark and cloudy sort of day, but hazy and gray, with leaves rustling under mostly barren trees, the occasional gust lifting them to swirl around the gathered figures, heads bowed low, all dressed in black. Earlier these same people, mostly family and some close friends had met in a low, nondescript brick building in the Town of Crafton, a suburb of Pittsburgh. Crafton seemed to reflect the sense of loss felt by the mourners, itself a wan image of days past, long before industry left Pittsburgh scared and forlorn.
Perfect, then, as a place to pay one's last respects to someone who fought heroically against the implacable foe that is cancer. Up until last week, Joe Davey stated, "I am going to beat this," even as his strength and vitality seeped away, a memory of the past. But in dying in the way he did, with the courage he displayed, he did beat cancer. It may have killed the body he inhabited, but the spirit of the person was victorious, triumphant even.
Buddhists regard the body as a shell for the spirit within and believe that it should be treated with great respect and care ... but the spirit is independent, a temporary resident. That spirit departed from the shell of Joe Davey sometime early last Monday morning on its solitary journey to the next plane of existence -- whatever and wherever that might be. Joe -- for the shell remaining is but inanimate mass, incapable of assuming the dignity of a name -- is surely now with God. But it seems that he didn't travel there immediately, choosing to tarry a while, perhaps to say goodbye to us.
At the service for Joe held at a Methodist Church near to where most of Joe's family still lives, Joe decided to let us know he was watching the gathered family and friends: he kicked over a vase of flowers by the altar, as if to say, "get on with it -- I have a tee time and enough is enough." He was no doubt smiling, having a joke with his wife to whom he promised to send a sign.
When at last, at a bleak cemetery to the North of Pittsburgh, the shell of Joseph Davey was laid to rest surrounded by family both above and below the ground, the spirit Joe was released to proceed to the starter. I picture him in my mind's eye, golf bag over his shoulder giving a jaunty wave as if to say, "I'm off! Don't be sad and don't worry about me ... see you in a while."
A good day to say goodbye.
Last Thursday was chilly, windy and overcast. Not the dark and cloudy sort of day, but hazy and gray, with leaves rustling under mostly barren trees, the occasional gust lifting them to swirl around the gathered figures, heads bowed low, all dressed in black. Earlier these same people, mostly family and some close friends had met in a low, nondescript brick building in the Town of Crafton, a suburb of Pittsburgh. Crafton seemed to reflect the sense of loss felt by the mourners, itself a wan image of days past, long before industry left Pittsburgh scared and forlorn.
Perfect, then, as a place to pay one's last respects to someone who fought heroically against the implacable foe that is cancer. Up until last week, Joe Davey stated, "I am going to beat this," even as his strength and vitality seeped away, a memory of the past. But in dying in the way he did, with the courage he displayed, he did beat cancer. It may have killed the body he inhabited, but the spirit of the person was victorious, triumphant even.
Buddhists regard the body as a shell for the spirit within and believe that it should be treated with great respect and care ... but the spirit is independent, a temporary resident. That spirit departed from the shell of Joe Davey sometime early last Monday morning on its solitary journey to the next plane of existence -- whatever and wherever that might be. Joe -- for the shell remaining is but inanimate mass, incapable of assuming the dignity of a name -- is surely now with God. But it seems that he didn't travel there immediately, choosing to tarry a while, perhaps to say goodbye to us.
At the service for Joe held at a Methodist Church near to where most of Joe's family still lives, Joe decided to let us know he was watching the gathered family and friends: he kicked over a vase of flowers by the altar, as if to say, "get on with it -- I have a tee time and enough is enough." He was no doubt smiling, having a joke with his wife to whom he promised to send a sign.
When at last, at a bleak cemetery to the North of Pittsburgh, the shell of Joseph Davey was laid to rest surrounded by family both above and below the ground, the spirit Joe was released to proceed to the starter. I picture him in my mind's eye, golf bag over his shoulder giving a jaunty wave as if to say, "I'm off! Don't be sad and don't worry about me ... see you in a while."
A good day to say goodbye.
Labels: death funeral pittsburgh
posted by Zaphod at Monday, October 29, 2007
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home