21 June
I don't often do this, but this morning I reached into my bag of Runes, no particular reason. Maybe seeking some sort of direction or emotional temperature by 'spiritual means'. I picked 'Separation' or Othila. It was reversed, not as shown above.
The opening paragraph of the description reads as follows:
Now is a time of separating paths. Old skins must be shed, outmoded relationships discarded. When this Rune appears in a spread, a peeling away is called for.....
Othilia is a Rune of radical severance.
A few hours later, my high school friend Emily called to let me know Kate (I always called her Katie, but she preferred Kate, so for this entry, I will respect her wishes) had sadly passed away last night around midnight. It was expected. She had been busy dying for a couple of weeks. We all knew it would end this way. Radical severance, indeed.
The last time I saw her was at her birthday, her 50th, this past April. Everybody showed up, it was a cheerful and heartfelt gathering. I hd been thinking of her constantly since. I wondered what she was going through, attempting to send her some energy to help her on her way, telepathically tell her how much I loved her and cherished our friendship, hoping she would get the message.
continued 26 June
Our bookend friendship, that began when we were teenagers in high school at Calhoun.
We lost each other in our mid twenties and then resumed our friendship in the past 2+ years. (we didn't miss a beat) She was still busy with her life though the appendage of cancer hung onto her like some phantom limb. I had a dream about her one night after a play and dinner full of rich food and alcohol. She was on a large dark stage, sitting on a bench next to a large distorted figure, wrapped up in bandages, without a visible face. She introduced it to the audience as her illness, that was cancer and explained it was something she had to take around with her, not being able to ignore it. She give it a seat and an introduction, but she wouldn't let it stop her from living her life fully.
Kate did not dwell on the thing that on the one hand allowed her to not work, but eventually not live. She was brave in her lack of self-pity, in considering life without her, the pursuits of cultural experience. I felt at moments she had to get her thoughts out about things, anything, so nothing is left unsaid. She felt rushed in having to pack it in, but she did. She gave us all everything she could, but more time.
We saw plays, went out to dinner and lunch, she drinking and eating heartily. As if to dare her illness to take away her zest for life through her palette or her thoughts. Talking, discussing, ruminating, was what we did best, with laughter in-between. About ideas, her son, our life paths, the twists and turns of them, pop culture, how silly our anxiety about safety, being a lawyer, being an artist, all grist for our mill.
One of the best times we had, was waiting on line to see Shakespeare in the Park last summer. Despite being a 'dyed in the wool NYer' from the upper west side (pre-Coops) I had never been to a performance. She was appalled and insisted we go. It was a perfect day to sit in the park on line and wait for them to hand out tickets.The company was the best part, we could just talk and gossip and complain and ruminate. It didn't matter what we talked about, it was just being able to be together. To be with someone, who though it had been a long gap, knew me as well, and honestly as anyone ever could. It was delightful, as well as a priviliedge.
This is a photo I took of her at the picnic we had before the play, which was (irony of ironies) 'All's Well That Ends Well'.
I really do not want to wax on eulogizing her, it's not what she would have wanted.
Selfishly I miss her, find it unfair and at the same time wish her peace in the hereafter.
It has been numb for me this past week. I'm not sure how I feel, but empty. Yet, strangely I feel her with me, talking, assuring me that she is still here, if only in my thoughts. Maybe that is what life is, being in the thoughts of others, with or without a physical body?
Later, on the evening of the funeral, I attended the last NY Philharmonic concert of the season, it was a performance of Mozart's Great Mass. Perhaps that is a little Christian for Kate, but going to the symphony, getting lost in the music, transcendence. It was something Kate would have approved as a send off. For a moment I got to dance with her in heaven. It helped me balance the sound I heard earlier in the day, of the earth thudding against her coffin. Both sounds pierced my heart. Godspeed Katie. You still live among us in our hearts.
