Will remembered that Robin and Mark Bunster first introduced us to ND in Corrolla in 2000. We shared a house with three toddler boys and two infants.
Music binds. Hymns glorify. Rock revolutionized.
I am stating the obvious.
How does one person long for another?
The gifts of life are often most luminous in their absence. Vulnerable and raw our souls supplicate for a last understanding, a final I love you.
It brings me great solace to know that Robin's spirit left her while she was in Mark's arms. Mark, Max and Ann's loss has only begun. Loss is confusing and a clarion cry to be more present, more healthy, more loving. But, it is not a switch. It is a the never ending approach to landing after the red-eye foggily trying to figure out what day of the week it is and in what time zone I am.
My time in Oregon was a gift. To be Bunstered up. To be with Lori and Michelle. Time to reflect. Time to pray. Time to experience.
A night of laughter with old and new friends was medicinal.
Today I see Robin smiling. I hear the songs she loved. I wonder why. Why do we have to say goodbye? Existential, esoteric, exasperated thoughts married with faith, acceptance and gratitude are potent cocktails. Do I dare to sip or gulp? Is there satiation?
Getting to wash dishes after her life celebration was a pleasure. To handle her dishes doing something mundane in a place she stood. Doing the regular stuff makes meaning for me. Fanciful elixirs or mystical incantations elude me, but music soothes. Music speaks. It is heart talk.
There is little we can leave behind that is worth much other than the gift of love. Trite almost to the point of meaningless, but without it what is there?
Here is a simple tribute
"Spread the ashes around the yard." Iron and Wine
