I just got back from Beth's (Bethe's) funeral. I am very thankful that I could go. I have to thank my friends at Real Change for helping me pay for the plane fare, hotel for one night, and incidental expenses, and Anitra for helping me make the initial arrangements, and Kate, Beth's Mother, for helping me with the hotel for a second night when that turned out to be necessary, and helping me get home.
I have to say how painful it is that we couldn't get help to come together like this before Beth died. I have to say it, not to be critical, but to be truthful. The world is not completely right. I'm not blaming any individual. I'm just pointing out the flies in the soup. I'm not saying anyone purposely put the flies there.
For now, I only want to reflect on the trip briefly. I left early Wednesday morning by plane from SeaTac Airport. I had a wearisome ride to Denver and then on to Dulles airport near Washington DC. The flight had clear skies all the way and the Rockies were spectacular. I observed the way the mountains are shaped by the wind. The wind is channeled by valleys between the outcroppings and diverted upwards creating sharpened crests. And I thought, "Not worn down, but worn beautiful."
Before I left Seattle I thought I ought to bring flowers. But I had no way to get them on short notice. What I did have were a couple of plants that I've been growing in my room. One of them is a big luscious successful spearmint plant, which I have christened Spear-It ("The Spear-It of The Union Hotel.") I'd told Beth I was growing plants in my room and she said it was wonderful, so I thought she'd appreciate it if I brought some prunings of Spear-It.
I took several foot-long cuttings, bundled them and tied them in a knot, and brought them with me.
I was afraid no one would understand. But everyone did. The mint was added to Beth's casket.
Another thing I am thankful for is the earth we were provided with at the end of the burial service, the next day. It was an orangish-ochre clay soil.
Clay is the material from which, it is said, humans were first formed. Clay stands for possibility. It can be anything you can imagine.
That's the essence of humanity. We have infinite possibility. We are the children of clay -- in that sense -- whether the creation stories of Hawaii or Ur are literally true or not. We show our humanity by surprising.
Anyone who dies, dies unfinished. A finished life is a falsehood. It's a comforting myth, but it's a false myth. The true myth is the one that says God created us from clay in His Image. Because clay is inchoate, as God is inchoate. We are meant to be unfinished, as God knows He Himself is unfinished. That is how we resemble Him. When we stop being unfinished we stop being human.
As she got older my daughter didn't like the way she photographed, so there aren't many pictures of her from high school on, and until she died I was only able to see the one I posted in Beth. By the way, she varied the spelling in her letters and emails to me, so that is why I'm varying it. These pictures of her were sent to me by her Mother, and I'm very grateful. I just wish Bethe could step out of them.
her Goth Period [left below and beneath that], and one with short hair [furthest down] that I'm guessing was post-Goth, or post-post-Goth. There's another picture in a costume, perhaps from a different Halloween, that I'm not showing, because my paternal instincts forbid that I show that much of her legs off on the internet, but take my word for it, she was as stunning in that one as in these.
