Have you been half asleep? Have you heard voices? I’ve heard them calling my name.
Were these the sweet sounds that called the young sailors?, I think they’re one in the same
I’ve heard it too many times to ignore it, there’s something that I’m supposed to be
Someday we’ll find it the rainbow connection. The lovers, the dreamers and me.
I received a call at work one afternoon. It was Sophie, asking of I could stop by her home that afternoon. When I arrived I found her laying on the couch, her legs covered with a cotton shawl in spite of the summer heat. She had been reading, a Vivaldi concerto playing softly in the background. Her smile and warm greeting gave no sign of what was ahead.. We made small talk, she asked me to make her some tea, and then, as she sipped lightly from her cup, looked over the rim at me and said that she was dying. Just like that. I had grown used to her directness, but how do you respond to that? I assumed she meant in a general ultimate sense, I had to. Surely this was some dramatic introduction to a teaching she wanted me to pay particular attention to.
"No, I mean I’m dying"
"How can you know that?"
But she did know. I found out later that people often do.
It turns out that I had misjudged Sophie’s age by more than a decade. She was eighty two, and while her spirit was still young and strong, her body had begun to struggle with the simple necessities of circulation and her heart had been weakened by a childhood bout with pneumatic fever. I understood then that she was declaring the simple truth of that day. And I didn’t ask again how she knew. As she said it, I knew that she did know and further, somehow I knew it too. It is strange in retrospect and stranger still to write it, but there was a rightness, to what was unfolding before me. Sophie was fully there, completely aware and possessing a dignity which I cannot express and which filled the room with rest .
She would not agree to my calling an ambulance or taking her to the hospital, she would not give herself over to all of that.
She handed me a card which she asked me to read later, and as I sat beside her and held her hand, we spoke of mostly trivial matters, small talk. She had said all that she had to tell me, and now was the time for the quiet comfort of the mundane, the soothing rhythm found in the exchange of simple thoughts and heartfelt, pleasantries. Not important in themselves, the words acted as conductors, exchanging a deeper sharing, a leave taking which was felt at a level deeper than words can plumb.
As the sun sat lower in the sky, moving the shadows further up the living room wall, a slight breeze began to stir . The sound of chimes, dear again to Sophie’s heart, filtered in softly through the cotton curtains. She turned her head to listen then back at me nodding slightly as if to say yes to everything, expressing her satisfaction with all that her life had brought her. Still nodding, she held me with glistening eyes, then lay her head back against the pillow, smiling. Then, looking at me once more, she squeezed my hand softly in good-bye, closed her eyes and passed on from this world. Sophie died the way she had lived, with confidence and rest and wisdom. It was exactly 7:52 on April 22, I know because I checked, I never wanted to forget , I wanted to hold that day in all of its details. It was the first day of Spring., the official time of sunset on that day. It was the end of the beginning. I had never experienced death before or since, but I will never be afraid because of Sophia and her final lesson to me.
I sat a long time as the shadows deepened into night, and the sounds of the night insects began a droning dirge to her memory. Eventually I called the ambulance, and then my wife to tell her that I would be very late in getting home that night.
I drove to the Vanderbilt but could not get in since the grounds are closed to visitors after dusk. So I kept driving, eventually finding an old and graveled road which led down to the river. I wanted to hear the water and see the moonlight reflecting off of the ripples, feel the pull of the current as it continued it’s flow of a thousand years and more. I was still sitting, when the sky began to lighten and the sun slowly, haltingly crested the mountains opposite me as if being pushed, coerced into rising for one more day. Overhead, as before, a hawk brooded in slow circles over the water. I got up and went back to the car. As I turned the ignition, I suddenly remembered the envelope that Sophia had handed to me. My hands shaking from nervousness and lack of sleep, I opened it slowly and took out the card.
The picture was of a simple dirt road, bordered by green fields covered in wildflowers. The road began before the position of the camera and extended into the horizon , no beginning and no end. It was a picture of her favorite metaphor, the journey itself.
Inside, I wept for the first time as I read her words, a final legacy of care and wisdom. They were not written for me alone and I can think of no better way to end this book than to share them with you, the reader,:.
"...........You say you longed for a teacher, but did you know that I had longed as much for a student? I am happy with my choice, and proud of who you are becoming. Remember always that life is a gift, but like a child who receives clothes for his birthday, is not always what we expect. But a gift it remains, and grace in every form it takes. Take the time you need to learn this, but then help others to understand this too. In the midst of their pain and uncertainty, bring them this simple message:
There is hope. There is always hope.
Tell them that we all are broken. We all feel lost sometimes. We all hurt. We all want to be loved and are unsure that we’re worthy. We all need healing. But let me say it again,
there is hope, there is always hope.
- Hope because there is a God who knows you intimately and accepts you as you are, and loves you and
will never give up on you.
- Hope because He has given you abilities and strength far beyond what you can imagine if only you will
believe they are there and seek them out inside of you and continue seeking until you find them.
- Hope because there are people out there who will share their strength with you, who will stand with
you through the night until morning comes again. Sometimes you have to wait patiently for them, but
they will come.
And be sure that morning will come. No pain is unending no matter how long. Though everything in you tells you otherwise, you will see the sun again and know that your life is an adventure, that you are precious and unique and have something to contribute.
Teach them to love life and live it with wisdom, through the things I have taught you. .Tell them it comes in seasons, times of strength as well as of weakness. That is why we must stand together. If you are strong, find someone who is not and stand by them, encourage them that they can move on and ahead. That is your debt for those times when someone stood by you, your contribution to this miracle. The most noble pursuit, the most lasting accomplishment is found in serving others, giving yourself to them and for them. And you can do this always by remembering that, even in your weakness, you are strong, you are capable beyond your imaginings.
You can be happy. You are not a miracle waiting to happen, the very fact of your existence means that you are a miracle happening every day.
Until we see each other again,
Remember me when you feel the wind,........... and don’t forget to lean a little."
