Us (my eulogy for Chuck, 8 Oct 2005)
I said "hello",
You smiled at me
I told you no,
You still chased me
I avoided you,
You charmed me
I committed to you,
You committed to me
You showed me Bavaria
We sailed on the sea
The house in the Sierra
It was heaven to me
You spoke of the trees
I thought you were wise
The animals and plants
All you recognized
You taught me to dive
You taught me to ski
You gave me the world
With you I felt free
For a time
...
I saw the best of you,
I saw the worst
There was little middle ground with you,
Always passionate first
...
I complained to you,
You put up with me
I followed you,
You hurt me
I screamed at you,
You lied to me
I worshipped you,
You betrayed me
I pulled back from you,
You left me
But I still loved you,
And you still loved me
Then your health began to fail
...
I helped you,
You trusted me
I supported you,
You exhausted me
I rescued you,
Repeatedly
I cared for you,
You needed me
I worried about you,
And you worried about me
Because I don't know how to live
...
I watched you suffer
I refused to see
I watched you whither
I wouldn't believe
You spoke of great pain
I didn't want to hear
You wanted to die
I wanted you here
Now you are gone
You suffer no more
You have moved on
Through an invisible door
I can't follow you yet
...
I loved you
Unconditionally
You loved me
Unconditionally
For ten years
As partners or friends,
A commitment without end
I would do it all again
I would do it all again
God, grant me one wish,
I would do it all again.
A Prayer for Chuck (Paul's eulogy, 8 Oct 2005)
Dear D-O-G:
In Chuck’s own Darwinian way, he preferred to spell your name backwards. I like to think he was correct.
Dear D-O-G, our beloved Chuck is on his way to you. His journey here has been long, and his body was very tired. He wanted so desperately to stay with us, but he could not and has now gone on to you.
Dear D-O-G, Chuck loved his life. He loved this city, and he loved his beautiful log home in the Sierras. He loved the outdoors. He loved mountains, and waterfalls, especially in the light of the full moon. He loved his tree. He loved the ocean, and would sail on it, and dive beneath it. He would even fly his glider through the air. He said that he loved the way the wind sounded when he was gliding. He loved rodeos, and to ride his Harley. And he loved your presence in his life, especially as Squirt and Luna. And he loved sweet Robert so much.
Dear D-O-G, Chuck loved collecting: art glass, coins, and strange little boxes. But he loved collecting friends the most. We are all so different, and yet he chose each one of us in his own unique way. And we chose him.
Dear D-O-G, Chuck loved us very much. And we loved him. He brought us close, pushed us away, but never let go. We loved him at his best, and hated him at his worst, usually during the same day. He made us laugh and often infuriated us, but he did not let us go. He helped many of us grow from the boys we once were into the men we are now. And he did not let go.
But now, Dear D-O-G, Chuck has gone on ahead. And we have not, and we are very sad.
Dear D-O-G, we ask that you help us. As you see Chuck now, coming over the hill, please bark loudly and wag your tail with excitement. Please run up and jump on him, and cover him with wet, sloppy kisses because we cannot. And as all D-O-G’s do, please fill his life with unconditional love and tender affection, because we no longer can.
And finally, Dear D-O-G, please give us peace. Now when we see you walk by, wagging your tail, or see you playing Frisbee in the park, we will remember our beloved Chuck. And we will know he is safe with you.
AMEN
falling (me, 20 Dec 2005)
Your death is a nightmare
Will I ever awaken
Faith has been shattered
This disease it has taken
Belief is laid to waste
Eternity becomes hollow
My choices seem pointless
I have nothing to follow
You have been released
From this illness - no, torture
But I still feel the pain
Desolation and horror
How can you be gone?
Your absence is appalling
It seems like just yesterday
In love we were falling.
Spinning (me, 12 March 2006)
A year ago today you had several small strokes. Tim and I drove up to Guerneville that morning to bring you home and I spent all day in the emergency room with you. You told me several times that day that you wanted to die and I kept telling you that you would bounce back and be fine.
"Not this time," you said to me.
You were wrong, because for a few months you were much better. But then you were right.
Six months ago today, at about this time, you left. You left me. The bond that had developed between us over the last decade, intense and dynamic but so taken for granted that I was barely aware of it, snapped. You were no longer there to hold up the other side, and now that you are gone I am still spinning around, barely able to keep my balance.
In fact, though no one is usually around to see it, I occasionally fall down.
Did you know that geese sometimes react to the death of a mate by flying and calling, searching until they themselves become disoriented and lost?
The day you left me, as I walked back from the funeral home, I pictured myself driving my car off of Highway 1. I could not imagine living without you, and I think this was the basis of my denial that you could die. Living without you was inconceivable. It simply could not happen.
I had this same thought during your cremation - I just needed to drive my car off the cliff and I would be where you are now, even if you are absolutely nowhere. This thought crossed my mind three times during that first month. It was the worst month of my life. You cannot be replaced.
There are four words that run through my mind more than any others: "I want you back." I say it out loud several times a day still. Can you hear me when I talk to you? How loudly must I scream?
I want to do it again. I want to thank you. I want you back.
I love you but you are not there anymore. I am still spinning around.
Happy Birthday (by me, 7 June 2006)
If you were here
I would drive to your apartment
and take you to dinner
at the restaurant you chose
as I did every year
if you were here
you would show me how much
your puppy had grown
and proudly demonstrate
the tricks you had taught him
if you were here
I would register us
for cooking classes at CCA
so I could finally prepare
something creative for you
if you were here
I would give you the glistening glass tray
that caught my eye last week
and I would watch you smile
as you admired the artist's skill
if you were here
you would chastise me
for pushing myself so hard
and not stopping to smell the jasmine
that you often pointed out to me
if you were here
we could sail the BVI again
and leave Mike Webber's ashes
on the beach that he chose
during your last trip together
if you were here
I would scream at you for being difficult
and not taking your medicine
or spending too much money
then you would roll your eyes at me
if you were here
I wouldn't have dreams
in which I tell you how much I love you
and beg you not to die
because our bond would still be alive
if you were here.
If you were here
I would give you the card
I bought you for your birthday
even though you're not here.
