Michele’s mother, Phyllis Jean Heaney, passed away Saturday night. To paraphrase Walt Whitman, Did she contradict herself? Very well, then she contradicted herself, she was large, she contained multitudes. Phyllis lived life out loud: she loved music and travel, she especially loved her babies – Claudia and Michele – and her husband Jim.
Her brightness and cheer will be much missed and – for awhile – the world will be a dimmer place.
Yesterday, a woman who sat with Michele and her mom, got a new puppy and then we read that our dear friends Peter Kuhlman and Ophelia Ramirez are great grand parents. Michele loves the synchronicity of it and I love the reminder that life is an ever changing river that moves around and through us. True hell is swimming in that river and not getting wet.
“True hell is swimming in that river and not getting wet.”
I like that. Give my best to Michele…I know where she is swimming right now.
Vern
Nice post, Steve. My condolences to Michele.
Hi Michelle
I know what it is like to loose a mother after long years of illness, but though there is relief, the grief is just a strong – you only have one mother after all and forever is a long time. I’m writing not only to say my thoughts are with you, but to tell you that I gave an audible gasp when I saw your mother’s picutures – having known you I would have recognized her on the street – to me the physical resemblance was uncanny. Our experiences of our mothers’ deaths go beyond the long illness similarity. When the hospital called my dad and me to come we rushed there knowing we were probably too late. As the elevator door was closing a man bodily forced his way in. He was holding a bouquet of flowers. “My wife just had our first child,” he burbbled – ” I have a son!” My dad looked at me and I looked at him and we smiled. One goes, one comes – it is the way of the world.
Arlene