There are many ways to die. I have spent the last 36 hours learning that again.

One year ago tomorrow, I lost Jane to NET Cancer and the Carcinoid Syndrome it often causes. I expected a quiet weekend where I could wrap myself around that piece of pain and come to terms with it.

Then there was a cryptic Facebook post Wednesday night that finally unraveled into the death of a 38 year old former student who had dedicated much of her adult life to the service of others. She ran, she biked, she was in terrific physical condition–and she died of a heart attack no one could have seen coming.

Yesterday, I came home from an appointment to pick up the mail before driving up to Bridgewater State for a reception to honor students receiving scholarships–including one being given in Jane’s memory. There was a card from a dear friend who has fallen off the earth in recent weeks. The card told me why: her husband has been hospitalized twice since I saw the two of them in late September–and had been nearly hospitalized on a third occasion. He had had a mild heart attack in late August or early September that I knew about–and had some kind of kidney issue last winter.

When I got home last night I was greeted by another Facebook note, this one from another old friend. Her housemate died earlier in the day. He had known his time was limited–and he died at home–as he had wanted.

For Valentine’s Day in 2010 I wrote Jane a poem. She had just come through a bout with the H1N1 virus that had nearly killed her. It had reminded us both, powerfully, of our own mortality. That poem seems, given the circumstances, the right post for today.

For Jane, Valentine’s Day, 2010

Death stalks these bodies–

Imperfect temples to divinity–

Flawed vessels of immortality–

Hair grays,

Vision fades,

Teeth crack,

Skin wrinkles,

Joints ache,

Muscles atrophy,

Bones thin,

Organs weaken,

The mind dulls–

And still we love.

 

Immortality stalks these souls–

Perfect temples of divinity–

Flawless vessels of En Sof’s  breath–

Mirror that joy,

Mirror that youth,

Mirror that ageless age,

That sprouts the seeds

Of e’er eternal us

And sings in us

The dance–

The word–

And still we love.

 

We stalk Death and slay.

We stalk Life and live.

Children of divinity,

We build imperfect temples,

Create flawed vessels,

To sail us home

To our perfect temples

And to our flawless vessels

And the dance

And the song

And the word

And the one–

And still we love.

 

We stalk the one.

The one stalks us.

Temples are but bits of stone–

Vessels are but bits of glass–

Divinities but bits of thought–

And words but bits of sound

Or bits of ink upon a page–

Death flees.

Gods quiver.

Temples fall and vessels crack.

Still light emerges–

Time begins and ends–

And still we love.

–copyright Harry Proudfoot, 2010