The Appeal

Mt Toby Retreat at Woolman Hill, 2012

It is quite early, I've been sitting on the porch of the meeting house (the same building as pictured here) at Woolman Hill. The sun is just rising as the fog is lifting. There is a riot of birds. They flit from place to place, making any manner of sounds. Chirps, chats and caws, whistles and songs fill the air. Woodpeckers are doing their work at different pitches and tempos. There is so much bird racket that an ornithologist would be challenged to name them all.

Sitting here I am also remembering the appeal Rahima made to the Quaker community in this building on the closing day of a weekend retreat (January 27-29, 2012) for the members and friends of the Mount Toby Meeting of Friends in nearby Leverett, Massachusetts where I attend and Rahima visited from time to time.

The retreat occurred on the weekend of my 49th birthday, so I made a request of Rahima. Instead of an elaborate party—she was a great party planner—I simply wanted to attend the retreat together, all weekend. This was a sacrifice for Rahima since it involved giving up contra dancing. In her adaptive way, Rahima brought a big cake to share and planned a fun dance for folks at the retreat.

As it happened, leading up to the retreat we received the devastating news that the "triple-negative" breast cancer for which Rahima had been treated had metastasized. First, on January 20, we read the results of the brain scan that showed areas of concern. Then on January 27, my birthday, a PET scan showed conclusively that the disease had spread throughout Rahima's body. Not only the brain was involved, but the lungs, liver and bones.

We carried this news into the retreat. Only two women, Mary and Margaret, knew our burden. They were like attending angels to us the whole weekend.

Rahima was greatly concerned for herself, but also for the other participants in the retreat. Should she share or not? By the time of the closing circle the answer was clear to her.

The retreat concluded with a group sharing. Going from person to person around the room, we were instructed to say our name, to whom we were going home, and what the retreat meant to us. The line of speakers meandered around the room. It became apparent that I would be the last to speak, and Rahima the next to last. It was then that Rahima looked at me and mouthed the words, "I want to share." I gave a knowing smile and nodded.

When Rahima's turn came, instead of standing in place as the other's had done, she moved to a raised step near the center of the gathering and spoke, the sunlight touching her auburn hair. The two angels, Mary and Margaret, had been sitting in front of and beside us. When Rahima rose to speak, they seized me.

I don't remember what I said at all or most of what Rahima said apart from telling her truth: her body was now riddled with cancer and she was facing death soon. However, I will always remember her appeal: "Hold the pieces of Andy's shattered heart until he can put them back together."

She recognized that I have found my spiritual home among the Friends (Quakers) and she, in her time of great suffering, was showing me the greatest compassion. My wellbeing was her concern.

Afterwards, a sixteen-year-old girl came up to Rahima and said: "You are the bravest person I have ever met." I agree.

My heart is full of wonder and gratitude.

~Andy

---

If you were there at the close of the retreat, please help me with details of your experience. What exactly did Rahima say? What did I say? How were you affected by this event?

larger photo

huge photo

In Praise of Quaker Men

Moving out of 62 Haywood Street

The Quaker men have showed up for me, big time. In the aftermath of Rahima's death, they've accompanied me on hikes, done overnights and shared meals with me. Yesterday, they came out in force to help with the move to Woolman Hill.

I am most grateful for the help. Moreover, l am touched by the knowledge that they are answering a direct appeal that Rahima made just after we learned that the cancer had spread.

I will describe that appeal tomorrow. For now, I'm exhausted and headed for bed, in my new digs!

With gratitude,

~Andy

---

I attend the Mount Toby Meeting of Friends in Leverett, Massachusetts. Rahima visited there often. What is your experience with the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers)?

faq

wiki

First Bird

Remember: Our tears help us heal. They relieve stress and activate the immune system. Let them roll. Make space for a good cry when you need one. Get with friends who understand this.

This is advice that I gave recently to a loved one for whom Rahima's death is excruciatingly difficult, advice that I am trying to follow for myself.

The tears come often and it's okay. They alert me to what is stirring in the depths, my fear and sadness at losing Rahima. They also sharpen my awareness of the beauty that is all around. Somehow the tears help to clarify my vision, to sweep away what keeps me from seeing and appreciating life in its fulness.

As she was facing her own death, Rahima and I observed how gratitude and grief are two faces of the same reality: the appreciation, through gain or loss, of something in this life. I am finding too that grief touches on beauty. The sorrow I feel somehow opens my senses to the splendor that is all around. I clasp my hands and say, "Thank you." Who am I thanking? Good question. The spirit of Rahima and the divine beneficence that brought her into my life, but words don't really work for this. Better a generous silence...

View from the Brown House

I woke up this morning on Woolman Hill. Last night, a small group of Quaker men—wise, strong, vulnerable, funny—had their monthly gathering at my new place. It was a rich time of sharing and it felt like just the right way to start my time there. One of them stayed overnight and that too was reassuring.

When I stepped outside this morning and saw the sky lightening in the east and heard the birds, I smiled and thought to myself, "First bird." I remembered pitching a tent behind the Woolman Hill meeting house and sleeping outdoors with Rahima for a couple of weeks late last spring. Just wanting to be out in nature, we slept there at night and went to work in town during the day. We had a little game: Call out, "first bird," when you hear the first bird of the morning. "First bird."

The memories come and so do the tears. I welcome both.

~Andy

Mailing Address (until September 1, 2011): 103 Keets Rd, Deerfield Massachusetts 01342

---

What does crying do for you?

A Paperless Marriage

Carnegie Hall
Feb. 2, 2012

Yet another lesson from my time with Rahima: "Better to keep a vow not made than to make a vow not kept." I offer this not as a knock against the institution of marriage or my previous two marriages. Rather, I am writing it down here as an affirmation, a discovery that is consistent with my intent to live with my feet on the ground and my eyes and heart open.

From the start, I knew that Rahima was special. We had only been dating two weeks when I asked her to move in with me. She thought that was a crazy idea. So I said, "May I ask you again tomorrow?"

About six months later, during her treatment after the initial cancer diagnosis, she did join me in the second-floor apartment I was renting on Madison Circle. After an initial adjustment period, that arrangement went swimmingly well, shattering one of my personal myths that I may be likable but I'm impossible to live with. Rahima loved living with me. Moving together to the house that she purchased on Haywood Street was a natural next step.

We got together in the spring of 2009 and we never spoke openly about marriage until the terminal diagnosis in January 2012. "This would have been a great marriage," I said ruefully one day. Or, "My most successful marriage wasn't, on paper anyway." In our recent sharing, she told me she had a startling vision of us as a married couple in a former life. Should she survive, we both saw it in our future.

Nonetheless, in truth we met the standard of a healthy marriage:

• fidelity—"I will never leave you" was her mantra to me, especially in the early days
• deep friendship—we actually liked each other's company, it was easy to be together for hours
• comfort—we created a home space that was comfortable for us and our loved ones; our children felt secure and happy with us; we delighted in welcoming people into our home for parties, groups and get-togethers
• communication—learning to listen well was a top priority for both of us; we worked ceaselessly at the risky task of speaking truth in love
• spiritual grounding—we shared a sense of transcendence and sought to enliven the spirit within 
• forbearance—"great forgiveness, great compassion" was a catch phrase for our interpersonal work, and we faced hardship well together
• love—she showed me exquisite tenderness in body, mind and spirit
• fun—we delighted in doing countless activities together

I am most grateful to have succeeded with Rahima in the realm that marriage attempts to codify, in effect to have had a "paperless marriage."

A deeper paradox for me is that the acknowledgement of Rahima's terminal condition, first to the Society of Friends, then the Amandla Chorus and ultimately at her memorial service, had the effect of a wedding announcement in the presence of beloved friends and family. In these sacred circles, a testimony of our great love was held in community. Further, Rahima expected that I would find such a love again after her passing. These observations are all rather confusing to my conventional mind, but wonderful just the same.

~Andy

---

What does marriage mean to you?