Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Letter to Peter

Dear Peter

I was at your funeral this morning, trying to make sense of it all, all that pain and hurt and sadness …. asking myself the question … “why?” And yet through the tears, I also asked, “why not?” After all we have no monopoly over life and death; why should it be early or late in life, and why should we always be able to predict the timing of this inevitable event?

I looked at faces racked by tears, red-stained eyes that looked worn and old, noses than ran sore and were wiped incessantly. I felt the collective heave of a community bound together in the grief of your death. Family, friends from school and from life, colleagues from work, and those who were there only because they knew your name and who you were, all caught up in what we hoped would be a celebration of your life, but inevitably became for many, a catharsis, and for some a trauma.

Phil talked about your illness, Ged about your life and work, but so many spoke only to themselves and to their God, knowing there was no answer to the questions “Why?” and “Why not?” We listened to these brave words from those who would do anything to go back a week, pick up a telephone, call at the house, do something different to change the course of history, and thus not need to be here today. All pointless … we cannot go back. We make our choices and must live by their reward.

Phil started and ended with the reminder that no event, no one illness can define or determine you or anybody else in our world. We are who we are with all our history, successes and failings, laughter and tears, choices made and avoided, friends and colleagues; we are all these things and not just the final event of our life.

It was good to hear this, reassuring, and it reminded us of all the pleasure that you gave us at home, at school, at work. Your work is not undone by death; it is perpetuated, complete. Your laughter, your energy and commitment is not lost; we are the people that you influenced, that you helped to form; and so your qualities and something of you, live on in us.

So, Peter, look down on us from wherever you are, smile your smile and talk your talk. Maybe when we look at sun or moon, your face will be there. When we hear the sound of that gentle wind it will carry your muffled words into our world. Whatever else you do, remember that we loved you, the person you were and the person you remain, and then, my friend, my child ….. rest in peace.

3 comments:

Dalva M. Ferreira said...

Dear friend, I can imagine the sorrow that you felt when you wrote such words, because I had to say "adeus" to one person that I loved more than everything in this world. I know that there are no words to make heal heart, only time. I am here.

فاریا پیربازاری said...

So nice, and so sad. Sorry...
Only those who've missed a beloved could feel the sorrow.

Legabal said...

I am with you, I accompany to you at this moment by hardness. Excuses by the English of this poem that wrote Cavafis and I dedicate to him to you. Greetings, Paul.
ITACA If you are going to undertake the trip towards Itaca, requests that your way is long, rich in experiences, knowledge. To Lestrigones and Cyclops or the angry Poseidón never subjects, you will not find such beings in your routes if high is your clean thought and the emotion of your spirit and your body. To Lestrigones neither to Cyclops nor to the fierce Poseidón you will never find, if you do not take them within your soul, if it is not your soul that before you puts them. It requests that your way is long. That numerous they are the mornings of summer in which with pleasing, happily you arrive at seen bays never; hold in the emporios of Phoenician and acquire beautiful merchandise, to madreper it and choral, delicious and diverse amber and ebony, aromas, whatever you can invests in voluptuosos and delicate perfumes; it visits many cities of Egypt and with avidity it learns of its wise people. Ten always in the memory to Itaca. To arrive is your goal there. But you do not hurry the trip. Better than one extends lengths years and in your oldness you arrive at the island with whatever you have won in the way, without hoping that Itaca enriches to you. Itaca gave a beautiful trip to you, without her the way you had not undertaken, but no other thing can darte. Although poor you find it, Itaca did not deceive to you. Powerful in knowing and life since you have returned. You include/understand already what means the Itacas. K. Cavafis.