62 Haywood Street

The house at 62 Haywood Street is up for sale. This was the home and ours was the relationship that Rahima manifested from halfway across the country.

Not long ago, when Rahima was living in Iowa, she left her unhappy marriage and her tenured faculty position in quest for great love and a place to call home. She took her consulting work on the road and she chose Greenfield, Massachusetts as a place to live. In true Rahima form, she had several reasons for this location: 1) it was in New England, not far from her hometown of Scituate, Massachusetts; 2) it was within reach of the Abode of the Message in New Lebanon, NY, a center for Sufi practice and her spiritual home; and 3) she regarded the Guiding Star Grange in Greenfield—the place where we first met—as the "contra dance center of the universe" (see video).

Now the time we shared in this place has come to an end. I am most grateful to the team of friends who helped get the house ready for sale. The realtor walked through yesterday and said the place looks fabulous. Here are links to an online gallery of photos I took yesterday and the real estate listing. Today, I worked with a woman to clear the house of energetic blockages and infuse it with love and light. I had a strong sense of Rahima's presence and approval.

This beautiful house was well-used, every part of it. Now it is time to let it go for someone else to enjoy.

I feel complete with this phase. My grief is not over. For a long time, I expect to feel the sorrow and gratitude that come. However, my active role in caring for Rahima has shifted. I have attended with her through the original cancer diagnosis and treatment, the hip fracture and recovery, the end-stage cancer diagnosis, the health institute and homecoming, her dying process, the home wake and memorial service and finally the sale of the house. I will hold her memory dear and relish the times when her spirit feels especially near, but my work is largely finished. In the summer, Rahima's ashes will be scattered at her "mermaid put-in spot."

Now I will rest and restore with a view toward progressing in my life. What my next step will be after my time at Woolman Hill—where I will find myself at home and with whom—is yet to be seen, but I feel confident and ever so thankful.

~Andy

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What are your memories of 62 Haywood Street?

Maddie's Mermaid

Maddie's Mermaid for Rahima

My children, Ian (18) and Maddie (15), felt at home with Rahima. For this I will always be grateful. They appreciated Rahima's ease, her penchant for fun, and her yen for adventure. They especially enjoyed the constant table games we played and the camping trips we took together.

At Christmas, Maddie made a gift for Rahima: a transparent window hanging of tissue paper cut by hand and glued together that depicts a mermaid swimming in the ocean. This was a month before we knew that Rahima's transition was fast approaching, but the image speaks to me today of Rahima boldly moving through her final passage.

Rahima was intent on including my kids in her dying process, speaking with them personally, giving them gifts and modeling honesty, grace and courage. I couldn't have asked for more in this regard. It was their first experience with the death of a loved one.

Before I hand the keys over to the realtor on Tuesday, I'll take the mermaid down from the kitchen window, and remember times when we were together, happy times.

~Andy

P.S. I am most grateful to the folks who helped at 62 Haywood Street. Thank you. We did it!

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What makes a home and how do you know when you're at home?

62 Haywood Street

I'm often asked, "How are you doing?" The answer just now is that I feel exhausted. I'm actively grieving, attempting to resume work, moving and getting the 62 Haywood Street ready for market next Wednesday, April 25, 2012. So at the moment I feel spent and overwhelmed. Fortunately, I've had lots of help and offers for more.

Rahima and I used this beautiful house very well, every room. Now it is time to move on.

I'll try to write more tomorrow.

~Andy

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

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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)?

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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

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What does crying do for you?

Acts of Kindness

During this time, my Jewish friends have reminded me that giving someone the opportunity to do a mitzvah, an act of kindness in the general sense, is itself a mitzvah, an act of kindness.

Another friend told me a story from the Buddhist tradition:

While Seietsu was the master of Engaku in Kamakura he required larger quarters, since those in which he was teaching were overcrowded. Umeza Seibei a merchant of Edo, decided to donate five hundred pieces of gold called ryo toward the construction of a more commodious school. This money he brought to the teacher.
Seisetsu said: "All right. I will take it."
Umezu gave Seisetsu the sack of gold, but he was dissatisfied with the attitude of the teacher. One might live a whole year on three ryo, and the merchant had not even been thanked for five hundred.
"In that sack are five hundred ryo," hinted Umeza.
"You told me that before," replied Seisetsu.
"Even if I am a wealthy merchant, five hundred ryo is a lot of money," said Umezu.
"Do you want me to thank you for it?" asked Seisetsi.
"You ought to," replied Umeza.
"Why should I?" inquired Seisetsu. "The giver should be thankful."

Both accounts were offered in response to the hangup I have felt in recent days about being the recipient of so much kindness, or more to the point, needing so much help. Literally hundreds of people have been engaged with helping me help Rahima—cleaning, organizing, moving (twice already!), singing, praying, giving rides, cooking—over the course of her cancer diagnosis and treatment, her recuperation from the broken hip, and right up to the present. The way the community rallied in her final days was breathtaking.

If I weigh the receipt of kindness as a future obligation, I feel that I am falling into debt that I will never be able to repay. But that's not what this is about, is it? So I pause and look at the expectations that mount up within me, about self-reliance and industry. I consider that music and its source, harsh and pressing. Then I reflect on the sweeter music of community, the glow that surrounds people who come together around a need, especially when life and death are in the balance. We are all changed and enriched.

62 Haywood Street

It seems that Rahima's service-learning career is not over. She knew all this. I am still learning.

With the help of a couple of coordinators, we are scheduling morning and afternoon work parties at 62 Haywood Street for the next week or so, to prepare the house for sale. If you are local to Greenfield, Massachusetts and want to help out, please sign up on Rahima's Wings. (Or if you prefer not to use the scheduling site, just call me.) Thank you. I need the help.

Smiling and with an grateful heart,

~Andy

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What is a lesson that you learned from Rahima about giving and receiving?

10:54 P.M. Tuesday

One week ago at this time Rahima breathed her last. I miss her terribly. So many things—a comb, eyeglasses, the recycling, food in the fridge, a word game, a song—remind me of her, all sounding the refrain of her physical absence. Yet I sense her spirit very much present, especially out in nature.

Today, I firmed up plans for an extended four-month stay at Woolman Hill, the nearby Quaker retreat center in a natural setting with fields and forests. I'll be staying in the Brown House. It feels right, and was something that Rahima had wanted for me. The house at 62 Haywood Street will soon go up for sale.

I'm exhausted. Tomorrow I plan a long hike in the woods to stretch my legs, clear my head and have a good cry.

~Andy