It is with great sorrow that Linda and I note the passing of our wonderful friend Susan, who passed away last night in Middlebury, Vermont.

Susan was very beautiful — she looked a little like Nicole Kidman to me. When I saw her a few weeks ago, it was clear that her disease had done damage — she was thin, her hair was short, she was pale. But she had just become beautiful in a different way, that was all.

We wish her peace. Our hearts go out to Robert her life-long companion who (she said last week) gave her the gift of laughter. And much more, I’m sure. And to her “bestie” Lizzie, her closest friend. As the end neared, and many of Susan’s buddies closed in to offer help and comfort on a daily basis, Liz noted she was “the captain.” Aye, aye, Captain!

Robert and Liz said this Irish poem sent by a friend comforted them in the closing days:

On the day when
The weight deadens
On your shoulders
And you stumble,
May the clay dance
To balance you.
And when your eyes
Freeze behind
The grey window
And the ghost of loss
Gets into you,
May a flock of colours,
Indigo, red, green
And azure blue,
Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays
In the currach of thought
And a stain of ocean
Blackens beneath you,
May there come across the waters
A path of yellow moonlight
To bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
Wind work these words
Of love around you,
An invisible cloak
To mind your life.

---

Here’s a poem by Ted Kooser, from Winter Morning Walks.

I saw the season’s first bluebird
this morning, one month ahead
of its scheduled arrival. Lucky I am
to go off to my cancer appointment
having been given a bluebird, and,
for a lifetime, having been given
this world.