Because I could not stop for death . . .

He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

 As we are much too busy, Emily reminds us that Death will kindly stop for us. This is what happened for me on Saturday.

First, I need to say that funerals can be life changing events for me. When I was at my aunt's funeral about eight years ago, I decided that I would not be in a pine box without first having the joys of a motorcycle (many of my family and friends think I am hastening the process). Getting my first motorcycle and the next three (all blue) have opened up new vistas and adventures for me that I will continue to treasure.

The most recent funeral for my good buddy's father-in-law, Dr. Bernard Patrick, was at St. Collum's Episcopal Church, a beautiful modern sanctuary with a majestic yet simple traditional service. One of the granddaughters gave a remembrance that had ever one in stitches. My buddy Rob continued that spirit and then went eloquently into the life and spirit of his lovely wife's dad. It seems strange to say I enjoyed a funeral but, nevertheless, I did. Dr. Patrick lived a full life and as the priest said, relationships live on forever. I feel like I know Dr. Patrick much better and will embrace that in my journey.

During the funeral service, I had another possible life-changing moment that involves service to others. However, I am going to let it gestate awhile before I share it publicly.

One of the granddaughers, who is attending Evergreen University in Olympia, Washington to record music, wrote a piece that is very poignant. I got to meet her when I asked permission to include it on my blog. She also shared with me the Library of Congress Storycorp project in which I hope to participate. I quote in for my students and colleagues and friends to ponder:

Here is what she wrote: It's weird when you watch your hero;s strength fade. When you see them as physically and mentally invincible and something so unexpected weakens them. Well I won't let that something win. His legend will live on. All of his accomplishments, talents, knowledge, wisdom, and over-told-witty jokes, will be carried throughout the generations in stories and memories. He really did live life to the fullest, that's one thing I strive to do everyday. I just started college; it's been rough. But one thing that has kept my head high is remembering our late night "deep" talks about our virtues. I love you, Grandfather,. I hope I can live up to your standard.
-Rachel (age 18)

Thank your heroes.