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| purple with shiny bits |
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun.
And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides.
That it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered.
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth reclaims your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
Kahlil Gibran
This small jar of nail varnish belonged to my big sister, Debs.
Debs died of (complications arising from) breast cancer 10 years ago, give or take a couple of months. It wasn't a sudden death, and Debs had time to plan a little, and to make some final requests.
One such request was that people should not wear black to her funeral. Debs was a little flamboyant in her dress sense, and often dressed from head to foot in a single bright colour...orange and blue (with sequins and shiny stuff, natch) seemed to be common favourites.
For her funeral, then, it must have seemed a wonderful opportunity to pull everyone else into the game, and so she insisted that everyone must wear something pink!
Being well known and much loved, Debs funeral was indeed very well attended by several hundred "mourners", and the packed-to-overflowing church was a sea of pink hats and shoes, pink scarves and socks, pink flowers, wreaths, bouquets and blouses...
For my part, I had nothing pink to wear(!), so I went and found Debs big box of nail varnish, always full of a whole rainbow of colours, and requisitioned a couple of jars.
This purple jar for some reason reminded me of her at the time.
I also took a jar of bright electric pink, and painted a single dot on the little finger nail of my left hand, as a symbol of my love and respect for her.
At the funeral, I (somehow) read the beautiful words above. I'm not religious, but I do have strong spiritual tendencies. I find these words immensely spiritual - they have a profound depth that makes me dizzy and brings tears to my eyes.
Struggling to hold myself together enough to cope with not only the intense grief of my loss, but also the raw, piercing beauty of these words was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do...and yet I remember being so happy and honoured to have the opportunity to read this aloud, at that time, to that audience.
And equally, I remember being angry and upset when the Minister followed the reading with, "Well, of course, he didn't really mean that your soul goes straight to God, because as we know, the only way to God is through Jesus Christ, our saviour...".
I wanted to get up and shout, "No, has it occurred to you that he said what he meant, and meant what he said?! We are free to commune directly with God, no intermediary is required!"...
But of course, it was Debs funeral, and otherwise much more pink and upbeat than you'd generally expect...so, I bit my tongue, and swallowed my pride, and let it go, as I felt Debs would prefer.
Anyway, for several years afterwards, on the anniversary of her death, or on her birthday, I wore the same bright pink dot on my pinky finger nail.
Sadly I eventually lost the jar (I think it's in a box or a drawer somewhere), but the purple jar sits on my desk to this day.
This morning, reading a sad obituary of a climbing legend who has just died, I came across these words again, and it all came flooding back.
So Debs is on my mind again...10 years...where did it go? I can't believe it's ten years since I last spoke to her...since that conversation, a couple of days before she died, when she needed me to tell her that it was ok for her to let go now...
So much has happened that I wish Debs could have seen, that I'd love to tell her about.
Perhaps I will tell her myself, one day, when I melt into the sun, and truly dance...
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun.
And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides.
This small jar of nail varnish belonged to my big sister, Debs.
Debs died of (complications arising from) breast cancer 10 years ago, give or take a couple of months. It wasn't a sudden death, and Debs had time to plan a little, and to make some final requests.
One such request was that people should not wear black to her funeral. Debs was a little flamboyant in her dress sense, and often dressed from head to foot in a single bright colour...orange and blue (with sequins and shiny stuff, natch) seemed to be common favourites.
For her funeral, then, it must have seemed a wonderful opportunity to pull everyone else into the game, and so she insisted that everyone must wear something pink!
Being well known and much loved, Debs funeral was indeed very well attended by several hundred "mourners", and the packed-to-overflowing church was a sea of pink hats and shoes, pink scarves and socks, pink flowers, wreaths, bouquets and blouses...
For my part, I had nothing pink to wear(!), so I went and found Debs big box of nail varnish, always full of a whole rainbow of colours, and requisitioned a couple of jars.
This purple jar for some reason reminded me of her at the time.
I also took a jar of bright electric pink, and painted a single dot on the little finger nail of my left hand, as a symbol of my love and respect for her.
At the funeral, I (somehow) read the beautiful words above. I'm not religious, but I do have strong spiritual tendencies. I find these words immensely spiritual - they have a profound depth that makes me dizzy and brings tears to my eyes.
Struggling to hold myself together enough to cope with not only the intense grief of my loss, but also the raw, piercing beauty of these words was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do...and yet I remember being so happy and honoured to have the opportunity to read this aloud, at that time, to that audience.
And equally, I remember being angry and upset when the Minister followed the reading with, "Well, of course, he didn't really mean that your soul goes straight to God, because as we know, the only way to God is through Jesus Christ, our saviour...".
I wanted to get up and shout, "No, has it occurred to you that he said what he meant, and meant what he said?! We are free to commune directly with God, no intermediary is required!"...
But of course, it was Debs funeral, and otherwise much more pink and upbeat than you'd generally expect...so, I bit my tongue, and swallowed my pride, and let it go, as I felt Debs would prefer.
Anyway, for several years afterwards, on the anniversary of her death, or on her birthday, I wore the same bright pink dot on my pinky finger nail.
Sadly I eventually lost the jar (I think it's in a box or a drawer somewhere), but the purple jar sits on my desk to this day.
This morning, reading a sad obituary of a climbing legend who has just died, I came across these words again, and it all came flooding back.
So Debs is on my mind again...10 years...where did it go? I can't believe it's ten years since I last spoke to her...since that conversation, a couple of days before she died, when she needed me to tell her that it was ok for her to let go now...
So much has happened that I wish Debs could have seen, that I'd love to tell her about.
Perhaps I will tell her myself, one day, when I melt into the sun, and truly dance...
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun.
And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides.
That it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered.
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth reclaims your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
Kahlil Gibran
Kahlil Gibran
oh boy. our loss was indeed great. just so you know you are the greatest brother anyone could wish for. You are an inspiration to me, thank you.
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