Impermanence

The spiderweb is to be seen on the porch of the lodge at Sea Ranch.

It was great to see, back-lit by a simple flourscent bulb, that it was attached in all four directions to solidly fixed points and had found such a nice place to live.

Is and was.

I didn't know what a privilege it was to be with my uncle when he was dying. At the time, it seemed very painful. I remember one time especially. Laying in his hospital bed, he opened one eye when I entered the room and said, "get me out of here." Another time, he told me he had some pills in the glove compartment of his car. Could I "get them for him...the keys were in the pocket of his pants..." Of course there were no pants as there were no keys as there was no car, but I pretended to look anyway, leaving the room and taking the elevator down to the parking lot. By the time I returned he'd fallen asleep.

In retrospect it was a great honor to be there with him, though I didn't know it at the time.

Loved ones don't just come and go. They stay in our lives as long as we are living. They settle into our beings by gaining their silence. Silently, they ask to be heard.