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Tag: Death


September Sorrow

I refolded my mascara smeared and soaked handkerchief. The melodic poetry. The organ music. The stories of love. The funeral of my friend was beautiful. From weddings to funerals, sacred rituals bind us to our past. They remind us of our connectedness, of our shared joys and the shared heartbreak that no human escapes. Weddings remind me of weddings gone by— those I’ve attended, those I’ve officiated, and the two that were mine. But sitting in the packed pew on this Saturday, it was a funeral that opened my heart and carried it into my memory bank. The life of
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Ending Love

Things end. Some endings bring relief. Some leave us lost. I feel relief at endings like time in the dentist’s chair, a successful surgery for my sister, or a flight taking me home to Omaha. I feel lost when relationships with those I love end because so much of who I am is connected to the people with whom I work and play. People like Fred who died last Friday. Fred the drama queen poet and next door neighbor who watched my children go from Montessori to college. Fred the matchmaker who brought John and me together and then officiated
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Randy, Tom, and Tim

I kept looking at their faces. Their beautiful smiles. Two handsome men near my age. Something tugged at me, made me want to draw closer to them. Then it hit me. They reminded me of my brother, Tim, who would have been about their age had he not died 20 years ago this week. It was the eve of the filing of a federal lawsuit seeking that the marriage of Randy and Tom be recognized in our state.  They and six other loving and committed couples who took on all the responsibilities of marriage were about to ask for its
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Hold on to This

Knowing his death was just months away, John began to get rid of things. He tossed tattered manila folders from his file cabinet. He gave away books. He added clothes to the Goodwill box. I could struggle with letting go of a calendar from 1987, but if John held on to anything it was because it truly had value. John knew how to let go of that which no longer served him. So when he left his journals, I knew it wasn’t an accident. John died in September of 2011. By October I had made my way through most of
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