I am writing, high from a couple of cups of red wine, using the energy from the battery bank a friend set up for me twenty years ago, (solar panels and inverter, the wiring of the house) that is needing recharging, yet, I am compelled to use the energy left to express. I just raced back home from the memorial held for my friend, Jimis Damet., who passed into the mysterious unknown on August 11. I left the memorial abruptly, having set a time to meet another friend who said he would come at this time to help me get the generator going, so I could recharge the system, since it has been raining for two days and the system needs charging.
As I raced down the backwoods highway, I felt the sweetness of the memorial I just left. The large crowd that gathered to honor the memory of Jimis Damet was love expressed, collectively and individually. It was palpable. In spite of the fact that I knew Jimis only through the times he traveled to my cabin to help me with the system he set up for me, I felt a part of the whole. I understood and felt the love expressed. Persons who knew him well, got up on the stage at the microphone to share their thoughts, feelings, and poetry. They spoke for me and everyone in that crowded room.
Jimis was an example of love in action. He was so quiet when he worked, but was generous with his explanation of how the system worked. He was a patient teacher, and for me, this was such a blessing. He nurtured my willingness to learn and answered the questions I had without ever giving me the feeling he might think me a total dunce. Few men I have known in my life have given me that encouragement to feel empowered, to learn self-sufficiency. I trust that his two daughters realize what a gift it was to be his children, for they had in him a source of love and generosity that is rare. I was just an acquaintance. To have received his love and generosity through a deeply personal relationship must have been so fantastic!
The young friend whom I raced home from the memorial to meet just called. He too is one who gives wholeheartedly. He called to tell me he got involved with weed-eating outside his home, and suddenly realized he had missed the time we had agreed upon for him to come help me. He will come tomorrow, which is fine. I take nothing for granted, and am grateful for any time someone is willing to come and give me assistance. A new day, another chance to have my faith in life renewed by the generosity and compassion of a fellow human being is enough.
The day started out cold and overcast. By the time I was driving to the memorial for Jimis, the sky was clearing and the sun was shining. Although I knew only about twelve people in that crowd of at least one hundred, I felt, and feel, blessed to be a part of a community that knows how to express love and the joy of living, along with the acknowledgement of how, in our grief, we know the truth of why we are here, exemplified by the life of a man like Jimis Damet. It is love, with all the mystery of life and death.