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12:20am January 9, 2015
My Father’s Eulogy My father wanted a simple burial, not a funeral.  The only people present were my mother and the people who helped carry my dad’s coffin (a.k.a. “the box”, “the pine box”) to his grave (a.k.a. “the campsite”), presunably from among the group who owned and worked at this tiny rural graveyard in the forest in the mountains in way-northern California.   My mother gave me permision to repeat anything from her email, including the pictures, as long as I used none of the names of the other people, to protect their privacy.   Anyway, these are the words she said after they got the pine box into the ground.  I am glad to have been able to be a part of it, even from a distancc, by writing poetry.  My brothers were both able to trael up and help my parents with various things, and I felt guilty not being able to do that.   But I found out that my dad had been keeping up with my poetry blog regularly before his death, and he said it made him aware of things he didn’t know about me before.  Oddly, the same happened in reverse.  It sometimes felt like the two of us were only able to communicate on a dep enough level, because illness and impending death made it impossible to hide certain things.  But that’s my biases showing as someone who’s had enough close brushes with death to feel my defenses against reality going down like that, due to lack of the energy to keep them functioning. So my father and I got to know each other more as he was dying than any other time in our lives together.  And we met in the middle so many times, I speaking his language, him speaking mine.  But learning the effect my poetry had on him makes me want to keep writing and getting better at poetry.  Poetry is like words for people who want to say things that can’t be said in words, and that’s right up my alley  Anyway, everything from here on out was written by my mother and sent to me on November 18, 2014.  The photo above is the flowers she threw onto his pine box before they buried it.  She describes them better than I can, so I’ll just let her get on with it and quit writing.  so, from here on, everything is her words (except where she’s quoting other people, and those parts are obvious): My Mother’s Eulogy For My Father This morning I gathered five daisies from our garden…one for each of our 10 married years together…5x10=50 :) also some oregano and french lavender and wrapped a red ribbon signifying love. This I put on the box as it was lowered into the ground. I do have video of that part I will share another time. When the box was in the ground everyone gathered around the grave. I said I wanted to say a few words and repeat them here. “We his family commit Ron’s body to the ground. Earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes. May Goodness bless him and keep him. May Love absorb him and it’s grace give him peace.” I will now read three tankas written by our daughter Amelia.“ Spectrolite Eulogy spectrolite looks brown but shines rainbow colors when the light hits it right. you were plain brown rockwith hidden colors no one saw. Goodbye Father I dropped a rock into the world’s deepest lake turned and walked away until I dropped that rock never had I said goodbye Love and the Ocean< just one drop of rain fell into the wide ocean dissolved into the sea Ron dissolved into Love where Love is, so too is Ron I looked up then to find that every man had tears in his eyes and [Person #1] was openly weeping. Your words Amelia, while written and read for your father had profound effect on grown men seasoned by war. Never under estimate how words can touch a heart. I thanked all for coming and we all walked down together. I was given yet another rock found three feet into Ron’s campsite. Kodiak and Daisy were in the car and together we drove to Happy Camp. Later coming back I saw [Person #2] and [Person #3] on the hillside diligently shoveling in to fill up the grave. They promised to leave a flat area on one side I think so I can come back with a chair whenever I want. I am glad for that. There is a temporary marker there with his name and dates that will stay there until a permanent stone is designed and fashioned. I felt your father would have approved of everything done today. It was the simple burial he wanted. Thanks to each one of you his wishes were realized… Heartfelt thanks, Mom
My Father’s Eulogy
My father wanted a simple burial, not a funeral.  The only people present were my mother and the people who helped carry my dad’s coffin (a.k.a. “the box”, “the pine box”) to his grave (a.k.a. “the campsite”), presunably from among the group who owned and worked at this tiny rural graveyard in the forest in the mountains in way-northern California.  
My mother gave me permision to repeat anything from her email, including the pictures, as long as I used none of the names of the other people, to protect their privacy.  
Anyway, these are the words she said after they got the pine box into the ground.  I am glad to have been able to be a part of it, even from a distancc, by writing poetry.  My brothers were both able to trael up and help my parents with various things, and I felt guilty not being able to do that.  
But I found out that my dad had been keeping up with my poetry blog regularly before his death, and he said it made him aware of things he didn’t know about me before.  Oddly, the same happened in reverse.  It sometimes felt like the two of us were only able to communicate on a dep enough level, because illness and impending death made it impossible to hide certain things.  But that’s my biases showing as someone who’s had enough close brushes with death to feel my defenses against reality going down like that, due to lack of the energy to keep them functioning.
So my father and I got to know each other more as he was dying than any other time in our lives together.  And we met in the middle so many times, I speaking his language, him speaking mine.  But learning the effect my poetry had on him makes me want to keep writing and getting better at poetry.  Poetry is like words for people who want to say things that can’t be said in words, and that’s right up my alley 
Anyway, everything from here on out was written by my mother and sent to me on November 18, 2014.  The photo above is the flowers she threw onto his pine box before they buried it.  She describes them better than I can, so I’ll just let her get on with it and quit writing.  so, from here on, everything is her words (except where she’s quoting other people, and those parts are obvious):
My Mother’s Eulogy For My Father
This morning I gathered five daisies from our garden…one for each of our 10 married years together…5x10=50 :) also some oregano and french lavender and wrapped a red ribbon signifying love. This I put on the box as it was lowered into the ground.
I do have video of that part I will share another time. When the box was in the ground everyone gathered around the grave. I said I wanted to say a few words and repeat them here.
“We his family commit Ron’s body to the ground.
Earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
May Goodness bless him and keep him.
May Love absorb him and it’s grace give him peace.”
I will now read three tankas written by our daughter Amelia.“

Spectrolite Eulogy

spectrolite looks brown
but shines rainbow colors when
the light hits it right.

you were plain brown rock
with hidden colors no one saw.

Goodbye Father

I dropped a rock
into the world’s deepest lake
turned and walked away

until I dropped that rock
never had I said goodbye

Love and the Ocean<

just one drop of rain
fell into the wide ocean
dissolved into the sea

Ron dissolved into Love
where Love is, so too is Ron

I looked up then to find that every man had tears in his eyes and [Person #1] was openly weeping.
Your words Amelia, while written and read for your father had profound effect on grown men seasoned by war. Never under estimate how words can touch a heart.
I thanked all for coming and we all walked down together. I was given yet another rock found three feet into Ron’s campsite.
Kodiak and Daisy were in the car and together we drove to Happy Camp. Later coming back I saw [Person #2] and [Person #3] on the hillside diligently shoveling in to fill up the grave.
They promised to leave a flat area on one side I think so I can come back with a chair whenever I want. I am glad for that. There is a temporary marker there with his name and dates that will stay there until a permanent stone is designed and fashioned.
I felt your father would have approved of everything done today.
It was the simple burial he wanted.
Thanks to each one of you his wishes were realized…
Heartfelt thanks, Mom
Notes:
  1. withasmoothroundstone posted this