I have been thinking about how our lives,
over almost 40 years, have been interwoven through countless conversations,
interactions, celebrations, hopes and challenges. As I reviewed our friendship, I realized Sue had
become and remains part of the fabric of my life. Then I thought we, here today, are also
interwoven, because of her. We are all
part of one large piece of fabric that is still in process of being woven. Sue loved well and she knew she was well
loved, especially by her family - all of you: John, Chet, Yukiko, Nori, Mitch
and your families. I am in gratitude for
Sue and her way of walking through life: Being real, being connected, kind,
compassionate, facing life’s challenges with courage and humor; continually
growing and planting seeds.
I met Sue at the Catholic Church in Bend early
in the 1970’s. She knew I was
questioning my faith. She invited me to a
bible study in her home and to join the charismatic prayer group; she wanted to
convert me. Can’t remember her exact
words, but you know you could always count on Sue to “tell it like it is”. She
was blunt and I treasured that about her.
Although we both ended up leaving the Catholic church, this was just the
beginning of a friendship and many conversations that started with exploring
each other’s current thoughts about our spirituality.
Being a wife, mother and grandmother was an
integral part of Sue’s life. Seeing
David’s pictures of her reading to her grandkids brought back many memories of
Sue - fiercely loving and joyous about being a mother. Okay – she also had tired and exasperating
times. Parents know that comes with the
territory. She talked with me about
losing her temper and having yelling times.
Although, I know, you guys were angels!
She never stopped working on having loving connections while at the same
time letting go and trusting that her family, her friends knew best how to run
their own lives. That’s a hard one for
parents you know - When we get anxious,
out pops the old “wanting to keep them safe” and we step into control.
In the 80s, we were in a therapy group
together, where among other things, we learned to swear. We did a lot of life’s work before, during
and after that group. We’d learned
about stepping up to the plate and being prepared to do the work. As we walked life’s journey, we learned we
were tough and courageous.
Baking bread, carpooling to school, being
part of the babysitting coop, participating in the peace and justice camp,
going to the kids’ games, celebrating graduations, weddings and memorials. I have all these memories that are like
snapshots running through in my mind.
I remember visiting Sue and John’s home to
meet and welcome you, Mitch. Showing
their usual consideration, they had friends visit individually, so as not to
overwhelm you. They realized the huge and confusing transition you were in and
wanted to do what they could to help you feel at home with them.
Another memory - Sue and I had noticed the
kids in Nori and Joe’s class were exceptionally cohesive, as a group. So we decided to hold a joint birthday party
for Joe and Nori at the Jones road home.
We invited their entire class.
What were we thinking!
John, I can think of so many examples of
generosity that you and Sue have brought to me, my family and to your
friends. I’ve always known I could count
on you and Sue, and I thank you for that.
Chet, Yukiko, Noriko and Mitch – I have to tell you that whenever I walked into your homes over the years there was just
such a strong sense of family – of love, caring and delight in one
another. I have many pictures of you all
in my mind. I so appreciate that I got
to know you all, both through your mom and through the interactions we had as
families.
When I visited Sue this spring, she showed
me her new home and was tickled to take me line dancing with her. She took delight in showing me pictures of all
of you and your families. She was proud
of Nori’s writings and showed me some of her poems.
Many years ago, Sue and I took a
personality test. One of the dimensions
in which she was high was “sensing”.
Basically this meant she was aware and appreciative of things in this
world we can see, touch, hear, smell and taste.
Sue is one of the people from whom I learned to be “present”. I think she used this after she passed to
remind me of her presence, her spirit continuing in our lives. Neither sue nor I ever thought we could sing. The other day I went to the grocery store and
as I was walking through the aisles, I started humming a melody out loud. Of course, I didn’t even realize I was
humming at first. When I did, I wondered,
“What was that familiar tune?” It came
to me, “Auld lang syne,” – a song that is a call to remember long standing
friendships. Well, I think that was Sue,
kicking me in the butt with a combination of the world of the senses and the
world of the spirit.
The words in the last few verses of this
song hold special meaning about all of our journeys with Sue over these years. “We two have run about the slopes, and picked
the daisies fine, but we’ve wandered many a weary foot since auld lang
syne. We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine, But seas between us broad have roared since auld
lang syne. And there’s a hand my trusty
friend! And give me a hand o’ thine!
We’ll … (make a toast) for auld lang syne.”
One more thing I’d like to say. Yukiko, you said your mom raised you all to
be courageous and that she valued a quality of life. John, Laura, Chet, Nori and Mitch, your
courage and love was certainly put to the test this last week. I think she was watching over you as you made
your decision to let her go and I know she’d be so proud of you all.
I imagined she was singing the Misty River
Band song, “When I Go”, as she was leaving - the last verse of which is - “And should you glimpse my wandering form out
on the borderline between death and resurrection and the council of the pines,
Do not worry for my comfort, do not sorrow for me so; All your diamond tears
will rise up and adorn the sky beside me when I go.”
