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By Dick Beardsley
In a Daze
I’ve been in a daze ever since Gene’s abrupt passing, the morning of April 8. I’ve been writing down some of my thoughts and feelings in an attempt to make some sense of it all. I’d like to share some of it with you and I think Gene would like that too.
I miss so many things I used to take for granted like still half expecting to hear Gene’s voice greeting me when I return home. The silence is sometimes deafening.
I miss sharing the small wonders that filled our world: The latest amazing achievements of our amazing grand kids and amazing daughter — spotting a pair of white tail deer as they silently cross our yard in the early morning light — watching from our front porch as the settings unsends beams of golden light back into the woods — listening to the back and forth hoots of the barred owls as they call to their mates — watching the fire flies blinking lights like so many stars in the gathering dusk.
High on the list of the things I miss is the showing off of my latest creation fresh off the workbench to Gene. She was always the first to see it and try it on. I valued her appraisal even when it was somewhat critical. I even miss the things that used to rankle like the ongoing skirmish over the thermostat setting or over the litany of queries regarding things I should have done or should be doing. It was expressed gently but at time with a look of some exasperation. She knew I could be a bit spacey and at times needed a little adult supervision. I could use that now.
I also dearly miss the occasional surprise like freshly baked oatmeal muffins to go with my morning coffee, and baking rhubarb pie for my birthday as only she could bake it, served still warm from the oven topped with vanilla ice cream.
Gene was riding high on a crest of well being when she left us so suddenly. Many of you played a major role in bringing her back from a particularly dark passage in her life. Your gentle reaching out and caring made all the difference.
Gene Loved the Meeting
I don’t think I need to tell youths but Gene loved the meeting with every fiber of her being. Her life was woven into the fabric of the Meeting for over 40 years.
She was steadfast though thick and thin — never giving up on the meeting even when it did not come up to her expectations and hopes. She was probably clerk of every committee in the meeting’s existence.
Most importantly she never gave up on transforming the Meeting into a `beloved community’: she molded that transforming love.
I know Gene would have been very pleased with the send off we gave her, especially at the grave site. It was as if God had pulled out all the stops!
It will forever be etched in my mind. I’m recalling
- Sunlight filtered down through shades of green, casting a soft beam of light on Gene’s white shroud.
- A gentle breeze rustled the leaves bearing the loamy smell of the fretting turned earth.
- A serenade of bird song drifted down from the tree tops.
- The hallowed words of Gene’s favorite hymns hung in the air, sung ever so sweetly by our own almost heavenly angels.
- The hushed silence as Gene’s shrouded body was gently lowered into the grave.
- The rythmic sound of shovels returning the earth in to the grave as long-time friends and family shared in this holy ritual.
- The profusion of colors and sweet scents of cut flowers being lovingly placed on the grave.
- The placement of the small brass marker with Gene’s birth and death dates and the works of the him she loved, `My life flows on’.
- Last but not least for me was the visceral sensation of being lifted by a great sea of light and lover.
- I believe Gene’s life flows on in my life and in the life of the Meeting.