Warwick:
Evaline

Ned Tribute: (Read during Warwick, Ma. Metcalf Chapel Tribute 2/23/01)

“As Ned’s Mother Once Taught Me…”

When Louise called with the news,
something in me rebelled, then crumpled.
For I was going to call you within the hour, Clare—
about something else, a book I’d once borrowed—
and the irony was too cruel.
I could not make sense of your only child passing
as my only child germinates within me.
I shook my fist beyond a passing cloud, demanding of the faceless power:
“What about this?! How does this make sense?!”
As usual, I received no audible reply,
just birds in flight, sun on tree.
It made no “sense” then, makes no “sense” now,
and will probably never make “sense.”

So I left my sensible mind, and prayed.
As tears washed me, I prayed for a mother’s comfort, and for peace.
As part of my prayer, I re-read a letter you wrote me,
Clare,
years ago I was grieving the loss of my father.
The strength and truth of your words enlighten, once again,
in the face of all this:
(You wrote) “I can only feel that he is near you giving you his love.
He has grown in strength & health & abundance of spirit.
Please don’t think of him as gone, only as changed.
He truly is only a thought away. He’s there if you need him.
He’s still learning & growing in infinite love.
You will learn to recognize his presence near you.
Honor the sorrow and let it compost
and give rise to a greater joy!
He wants you happy.
He is Happy.”

Your words changed me, Clare,
made it more possible to live on this Earth.
And tho’ I cannot wrap my sensible mind around Ned’s passing,
my heart tells me something else:
Ned is firmly and forever part of all this.
Ned helped you be more of who you are, Clare,
and you helped me be more myself.
We are an unbroken chain.
All we have to do is see it.

It may seem that the era for myths & heroes has passed,
but it hasn’t.
Someday, in the not-too-distant future,
I’ll tell my child myths and stories,
teachings and tellings to guide the way.
One true story will begin like this:

“There was a young man named Ned,
a lover of land and steward of mountains.
Ned made hats & baked bread & read poetry.
There was, my child, a spirited young man named Ned,
brave & bold & free,
and he, too, is part of who you are,
and all of us,
and all of everything,
and he is never truly gone.

I am telling you this, my child,
as Ned’s mother once taught me…”

February 23, 2001 5:00 am
Love Eveline