Re: [Fandfs] Cynthia, November, 2010

[Mary D Winegarden <mwinegar@sfsu.edu>]

Dear ones,

I was going to write just to Honey, Molly and Sarah in response to their last  moving missive on Cynthia’s final journey, their tales of elephants and the Giants' victory and “walks” down highway 1 past familiar houses. But then hearing from Laura, Penelope, Susan and others made me want to jump into our community conversation.

I was able to stop by the Highlands the day after TG for a brief visit, and had the gift of a longish conversation with CW in her bedroom as the late afternoon sun began to set over Bird Island.  John (grandson John) was there too—a peaceful end-of-day conversation. C. was pretty lucid as talked about the three decades that we’ve known each other, a lucidity mixed with surreal logic, or kind of a Lewis Carroll logic (exactly the kinds of conversations I had with my own mother in her last few months).  C. remembered Daniel at nine months on our very first visit to the Highlands, learning to walk by pushing the small green chair around the living room, an oft-told tale.  But she also recalled (which I had forgotten!) that Jonah had learned to tell time in that same living room, with Cynthia’s clock (“Waste not, want not”), when Kailey was just a baby—C. remembered everyone’s names.  Sometimes it was difficult to hear her (not like the old days with her booming voice), as speech came slowly; she spoke of trying to find the cliff where the children were all "desporting" themselves.  She was worried about the children, but since they were "desporting" so happily, we agreed they’d be okay.

Later in the living room as we were about to leave (hard to do!), I once again told C. how much I loved her, how much she and her inn-keeping at the Highlands have meant to our family.  I added that I’ve always especially admired her ability to feed extra people without notice, without any fuss—just put on more pasta!—she’d say as more guests would show up for dinner.  Pasta is always good, she agreed, pasta is always good.

Though I hope it’s not so, these may have been her parting words to me—useful advice!   As Susan and Penelope and others have said, Cynthia was a second mother, a wise and witty and urbane one.

Two days ago I happened to find a letter C. wrote to me just after the sudden death of my sister in March 2000.   It brought so much comfort then, and seems so prescient now, so here are some extracts:

     A death in the family is always a terrible blow; an unexpected sudden death is even more devastating.  When I was      fourteen years old, my father died of a massive heart attack, with no warning . . . My life fell apart and I learned then that anyone can die, any time; there is no such thing as security . . . A painful lesson, but valuable.  It will make you appreciate your family and your friends even more than you ever have — and your own life, of course.


She was right, of course.  I think I’ll go put on some pasta.


We love you all so much.
Mary


________________________________________
From: fandfs-bounces@maborgias.com [fandfs-bounces@maborgias.com] on behalf of Margo Davis [photomad@pacbell.net]
Sent: Saturday, December 11, 2010 7:14 AM
To: Honey Williams
Cc: fandfs@maborgias.com
Subject: Re: [Fandfs] Cynthia, November, 2010

Dear Honey, Sarah and Molly et al,

I have been searching for words to describe how meaningful it has been to have the recent mail from Honey and Sarah.  This morning, I must say, that Susan summoned the spirit, the mood, the words and the sentiments.  Ditto for me Susan.  I will share with Anika and Julian.

Love to all.

Big Hugs,

Margo


Margo Davis
Phone:  650.714.2146
Email: photomad@pacbell.net
http://www.margodavisphoto.com




On Dec 11, 2010, at 9:08 AM, partridgeray@tiscali.co.uk wrote:

> Dearest Honey and Sarah  How wonderful, albeit very hard for you, that
> Cynthia should live her dying days in just as unique and extraordinary
> a way as she has lived her whole life.  Not for her lying back and
> taking what's given her; just fading out and breathing less until no
> more.  She's clearly totally involved - psychologically and spiritually
> - with her passage to that other place and will play an active part in
> every step she takes.  I only hope that the road gets smoother for her
> and for all of you there, on-looking her journey.  I think of her and
> you all constantly, as a background murmur to the immediate busyness my
> everyday life.  I long to be there. Your splendid detailed account of
> her complex inner life is so moving; it helps to bridge the distance
> between us all.  My particular favourite is the walk south - I can so
> clearly see you three and elephant in my mind's eye. Bird Rock is
> shimmering there in the water and we watch it together.   I can't thank
> you all enough for sharing this extraordinary time in your lives with
> me.  And so pleased that Lorelei's picture featured in Cynthia's
> birthday celebrations!   I love you all  Susan
>
>
>
>> ----Original Message----
>
>> From: honey@honeywilliams.com
>
>> Date: 07/12/2010 17:57
>
>> To: <fandfs@maborgias.com>
>
>> Subj: [Fandfs] Cynthia, November, 2010
>
>>
>
>>
>
>>
>
>>
>
>>>
>
>>> Dear Friends and Family,
>
>>>
>
>>> This is a two part letter.  The first section, "The Elephant in
> the
>
>>> Room", is about the past few days.  The second section is a
> general
>
>>> November Update.
>
>>>
>
>>> December 4, 2010  "The Elephant in the Room"
>
>>>
>
>>> When she was a child living in Paris, Cynthia rode an elephant
> when
>
>>> visiting the zoo.  For the past three days she has been calling
> for
>
>>> the elephant to come and help her.  She inhabits the dreams state
>
>>> and the waking state at the same time, spending much of the time
>
>>> lying with her eyes closed, and often saying "help help, help me
>
>>> help me".   Need less to say, this is very distressing for those
> of
>
>>> us near by, and we  say "what do you want help with, how can I
> help
>
>>> you", trying all combinations of words to see if we can elicit a
>
>>> response that would provide us with a clue as to what was the
> matter
>
>>> and what she needed.  Finally she made it clear that some of the
>
>>> time she was not in fact talking to us.  She said "it makes me so
>
>>> angry when you say what can I do to help, you can't help".  We
> tell
>
>>> her that if we could bring her the fountain of youth we would do
>
>>> that, but we can't, because there is no fountain of youth.
>
>>>
>
>>> A few weeks ago CW went through a period of giving us a certain
> look
>
>>> that seemed to say  that she really did not believe that we were
>
>>> doing everything that we could to help her.  It was a "just who
> do
>
>>> you think you are kidding" look, and it made our blood run cold.
> We
>
>>> were relieved when she moved from that anger into a wary
> acceptance,
>
>>> which happened after her last bout of illness. Alcie Williams
> Meyers
>
>>> was recently visiting, and on her leaving said something about
>
>>> seeing her the next time,  and Cynthia said that there may not be
> a
>
>>> next time.  She said something similar to Linda Campbell, very
>
>>> factual, and without self pity.
>
>>>
>
>>> Three days ago she told Molly that when she cried out "help help"
>
>>> she was not talking to us, but she was talking "to them."  Okay,
> we
>
>>> thought, that's good to know, because the "help help" was hard
> for
>
>>> us to bare.   Yesterday afternoon when I was sitting with her she
>
>>> spoke of a ship that was coming, but she could not yet make out
> if
>
>>> anyone was on the ship, but she zeroed in on who "them" were,
> saying
>
>>> she was asking a "Divine Creature for help."  Bring it on, I
> thought.
>
>>>
>
>>> When we sit with her and chat we tell her all the wise things
> that
>
>>> we read in books that are appropriate to say to people who are
> in
>
>>> the process of letting go of their bodies. We talk about death
> and
>
>>> dying in many ways and on many levels.   One day she said to me,
>
>>> "when the time comes I will sneak out pretty fast.  But what
> about
>
>>> my shoes?" Her soul, she tells me, wants to stay here, and is not
>
>>> yet ready to go. She worries that she does not know how to die,
> or
>
>>> know what she needs to do in order to move into the transition
> out
>
>>> of her body.  So she calls for help.
>
>>>
>
>>> Yesterday afternoon Cynthia  was calling out to Laidlaw, calling
> for
>
>>> Laidlaw to help help her. He had been there, she said, she had
> seen
>
>>> him, "Laidlaw, I don't know how to cross to where you are, can
> you
>
>>> please help me.  We need you Laidlaw, don't go away". This
> afternoon
>
>>> she could no longer see him, but she could smell the smoke from
> his
>
>>> pipe, and she went on for some time calling out "Laidlaw,
> Laidlaw".
>
>>> You know, I never would have guessed that Laidlaw would be the
> one
>
>>> to help her over to the other side, you just never know where
> help
>
>>> may come from when you are really in need.  I did suggest that
>
>>> perhaps Abby-Lou would make a better guide.  "No", she said,
>
>>> "Laidlaw is much gentler, and he really knows his way out of the
>
>>> woods"
>
>>>
>
>>> And the elephant.  The elephant has been a reappearing theme
> these
>
>>> last days.  And as I was leaving yesterday afternoon she told me
>
>>> that  "we have to make an elephant and ride it downtown."  When I
>
>>> returned this evening Laidlaw was not around, but the elephant
> was
>
>>> still in play.  So we made an elephant, and now we have this
>
>>> elephant. But how to cope with the elephant?  Much discussion
> about
>
>>> this. The elephant was the right size, the right size being  a
>
>>> medium sized elephant.  I told her I would be happy to take care
> of
>
>>> the elephant.  But things were not right, maybe the elephant was
> too
>
>>> big to ride.  She wanted to take the elephant for a walk but it
>
>>> scared her.  So we compromised, and said that both Molly and
> Honey
>
>>> would go with her and that we would just walk along side of the
>
>>> elephant.  But where did she want to walk?  She wanted to "walk
> out
>
>>> of the Highlands".  And in which direction?  "South", she said.
> So
>
>>> we began our walk south.  We walked past the Lloyds house, past
> the
>
>>> Doner's  and past the gas station.  Then past the Duttons house
> and
>
>>> the James' house.  Past the Highlands Inn and Mrs Bigglow's
> house,
>
>>> the Mastens house.  "Oh, and Dr McDougal's house" she said, then
>
>>> said, "no, its too far off the highway". And we passed the
> Westons
>
>>> house (we also passed Harry Leon Wilsons house, but it went
>
>>> unmentioned) and John O'Sheas house, and the turn off to the
> Flavins
>
>>> house. It was a fine walk we took, remembering each house and
> each
>
>>> family as we moved along, walking south along the highway, out of
>
>>> the HIghlands.  It made me cry.  She was tired out after the
> walk,
>
>>> and ready to go to her bedroom to sleep.
>
>>>
>
>>> When I told Sarah about the elephant, she sent me the following e-
>
>>> mail:
>
>>>
>
>>> I loved hearing about the elephant! It never occurred to me, but
> of
>
>>> course! - a power animal! A totem! It is worth noting that
> according
>
>>> to legend, when an elephant feels it is time to die, they start
>
>>> walking, walking, knowing somehow instinctively the way to the
>
>>> proverbial 'elephant graveyard.' What better animal to lead CW to
>
>>> the other side then one that knows the way by heart?  Elephants
> are
>
>>> the only animals other than humans to have a recorded death
> ritual,
>
>>> and  elephants have been seen sitting shiva for days at a time.
>
>>>
>
>>> As for the dreams...when I was there visiting the dreams were
> almost
>
>>> always filled with people. "Those people" or "These people." My
> take
>
>>> is that everyone on the other side is waving her onward, that her
>
>>> parents and brothers and friends and everyone who has passed on
>
>>> already come to her and talk with her and want her to come with
>
>>> them. But she is scared and confused, and often she feels trapped
>
>>> between these two worlds, her dreams often involving some type of
>
>>> entrapment from which she cannot escape. She told me about a
> light
>
>>> she saw out on bird rock. She worried she could not go to it
> because
>
>>> of the rule about no one going to bird rock since it is a
> preserve,
>
>>> a sanctuary. I told her we could bend the rules for her, that she
>
>>> was the exception, but after some thought she changed her mind
> and
>
>>> wanted to stay where she was. I hope the elephant can lead her
>
>>> towards that light.
>
>>>
>
>>>
>
>>>
> ********************************************************************************************
>
>>>   November Update
>
>>>
>
>>> What with elephants and sailing ships, there is never a dull
> moment
>
>>> here in the Highlands.   The month of November was eventful from
>
>>> start to finish.  The month began  with rain,  the world series,
> and
>
>>> Cynthia's birthday.   Cynthia was in good spirits as her beloved
>
>>> Giants  scored victory after victory in the play-offs.
>
>>>
>
>>> On Cynthia’s 95th birthday the weather was gloriously  warm and
>
>>> sunny. A small cadre of friends and family gathered to celebrate
>
>>> with her and watch the final game of the series. She was cheerful
>
>>> and lucid most of the day, but by afternoon she was fading, and
> had
>
>>> retired to her bedroom by the sixth inning. We watched the final
>
>>> innings in the living room (it still seems strange to have a
>
>>> television in the living room) and we rushed into her room to
> bring
>
>>> her news of the big win. “The Giants won!” we cried, bursting in
> the
>
>>> bedroom.  "I just don't believe it" she told us. She was in
> sleepy
>
>>> disbelief that after all these years of faithful fandom the good
> ol’
>
>>> Giants had finally won. Over the next few days we were able to
>
>>> remind her again and again of the news of the win, and bring a
> smile
>
>>> every time we did.
>
>>>
>
>>> The night  of the Giants big victory Sarah and Honey stayed up
> til
>
>>> all hours following the celebrations going on in the city of San
>
>>> Francisco.  Sarah was feeling a little sorry to not be up in the
>
>>> city, as she had come home for Cynthia's birthday, so we did our
>
>>> best to take in the evening's goings on "virtually".  We followed
> a
>
>>> link someone had twittered that provided us with the ongoing
> chatter
>
>>> of the online stream of the SF police scanner.  Through the
> tweets
>
>>> posted by people celebrating on the streets of SF we were as good
> as
>
>>> there, taking part in the commandeering of the fire truck at
> Mission
>
>>> and 23 and watching the fires being set in the streets. Following
>
>>> updates on Twitter and Facebook we could follow the news that no
>
>>> networks were bringing to us.
>
>>>
>
>>> The next day I was describing this amazing "social networking" to
>
>>> Cynthia, explaining how we "virtually were there in SF".  She
>
>>> listened, and after some thought  she said  "I wonder what
>
>>> Shakespeare would have made of all of this?"  We agreed that Will
>
>>> would probably  be making good use of the various social
> networking
>
>>> sites and social media platforms.  She may be confused, and
> deeply
>
>>> confused at times, but  that interesting mind of CW's still goes
> on
>
>>> amazing us..
>
>>>
>
>>> Who could have asked for a better present than to have the Giants
>
>>> win the world series in celebration of CW's 95th!  A hardy Thank
> You
>
>>> to the Giants and to everyone who sent Cynthia birthday
> greetings,
>
>>> which arrived in many forms and formats.  All tokens were
>
>>> appreciated, and Molly showed them to Cynthia a few at a time,
> and
>
>>> several times over.  Each time they were new to her and enjoyed
> over
>
>>> and over.  On Cw's birthday we received a photo of Susan Clifford
>
>>> Rayner's new granddaughter, a beautiful smiling baby, and this
> photo
>
>>> juxtaposed with 95-year-old Cynthia made a complete circle of life.
>
>>>
>
>>> CW sleeps more now then she has in the past few months, snoozing
>
>>> most of the day and waking up at short intervals for meals or a
>
>>> brief visit with whoever is passing through the Highlands. Some
> days
>
>>> she is lucid, although most days she seems stuck between her
>
>>> sleeping and waking state, in a sort of half-dream. There are
> often
>
>>> reoccurring themes in these dreams, and they are all too often
>
>>> stressful or fretful ones.  We do our best to communicate with
> her
>
>>> on these days, although it is often frustrating to her as well as
> us
>
>>> when she cannot explain what she means or needs. There is
> confusion
>
>>> along with the  forgetting.  She will often have a thought, begin
> to
>
>>> express the thought, and then forget whatever it was and drift
> away
>
>>> from us.  Very frustrating.  Or she will have the thought, begin
> to
>
>>> express the thought, and not be able to find the words.
> Sometimes,
>
>>> if we are in a context, we can help her to complete the thought
> or
>
>>> locate the missing word.
>
>>
>
>>>   One afternoon as she lay on the hospital bed in the living
> room
>
>>> gazing out to sea, she started to speak, "I love, I love, I
>
>>> love...."  Her words   came slowly,  "Yes", I said, "You love,
> you
>
>>> love, you love..."  Suddenly she made the connection to her
> words,
>
>>> "I love that rock!" she said.
>
>>> and she smiled.  "I love that rock".  Bird rock was shining in
> the
>
>>> sun.  So I spoke to her about the rock, how every day we looked
> out
>
>>> at that         beautiful huge rock, how the sun lit up the rock
> in
>
>>> the early morning and we could tell the time as well as the
> weather
>
>>> and the time of the  year when we looked at that faithful old
> rock.
>
>>> Her view of Pt Lobos and the ocean, the changing sky, this view
>
>>> sustains her through  her long days of dreaming and waking as she
>
>>> prepares for her passage.  (Ah! and if only we knew where that
>
>>> passage would lead us.  The great mystery.  She is often
> frightened
>
>>> of this unknowing.  We remind her that she has lived a good life
> and
>
>>> has been loving and kind,  We remind her that everyone crosses
> the
>
>>> lonely valley by themselves.)
>
>>
>
>>
>
>>> Cynthia took sick the week before Thanksgiving, having become too
>
>>> weak to inhale her respiratory medicine. There were a few bad
> night
>
>>> when Cynthia’s was having a lot of difficulty breathing and we
> all
>
>>> feared for the worst, and braced for a very different type of
>
>>> Thanksgiving. Luckily, thanks to Molly’s tireless attentiveness
> and
>
>>> our wonderful crew of in-home care givers, we were able to switch
> CW
>
>>> to other medication that seems to have alleviated some of the
>
>>> respiratory distress.
>
>>>
>
>>> Despite this, Thanksgiving was joyful, and the house was bursting
> at
>
>>> the seams with friends, family, and food. With record low
>
>>> temperatures hovering just above freezing, it was certainly a
>
>>> Thanksgiving to remember. With the house full of people, we
> spilled
>
>>> out of the house and into the garden for the actual meal,
> stringing
>
>>> Christmas lights and lighting "Mr Heaters"  to transform the
> patio
>
>>> into a festive dining room. We assured our foreign visitors that
>
>>> this was as authentic a Thanksgiving as you could ask for, eating
>
>>> under the stars and in the cold. CW was still exhausted from
> being
>
>>> under the weather a few days before, and stayed down the hall in
> her
>
>>> warm room, where we were all able to come and pay her a visit.
>
>>>
>
>>> We had what we called "a relaxed Thanksgiving", having agreed not
> to
>
>>> let the small stuff upset us.  And in fact it was very relaxed.
> So
>
>>> relaxed that when my oven was failing I just turned it off and
>
>>> abandoned the turkey until the next day.  Luckily there were two
>
>>> other turkeys. The brave "20-somethings" sitting outdoors in the
>
>>> patio made for a luxurious amount of space for the rest of us
> dining
>
>>> in the living room.
>
>>>
>
>>> Of course the big change this year was our missing Cynthia at her
>
>>> usual place at the table.  We felt her absence deeply,  but we
>
>>> survived, we did it without her, and it was just fine. Molly, our
>
>>> Thanksgiving General, was elated that "we did it!". We toasted
>
>>> Cynthia, and we toasted our community of family, friends and
> loved
>
>>> ones, feeling very blessed to be together surrounded by such love.
>
>>>
>
>>> Most everyone reading this will remember being at a party in the
>
>>> Highlands, where the music was loud and went on until the wee
>
>>> hours.  Cynthia was never bothered by this, which I always felt
> to
>
>>> be a miracle.  But no longer. During much of the long weekend she
>
>>> grumbled in her bedroom, wishing  "all of these people would go
>
>>> home."  We did our best to keep our voices down during dinner,
> and
>
>>> the after dinner dancing was moved next door to my house, which
>
>>> worked out very well
>
>>>
>
>>> When Cynthia took ill just before Thanksgiving she was given a
>
>>> course of prednisone.  This was a blessing for her physical
> health,
>
>>> but after 4 or 5 days the psychotic side effect of prednisone
> reared
>
>>> its ugly head and there were some very long and unpleasant days.
> I
>
>>> was very happy that Sarah was here, as her patience is far
> greater
>
>>> than mine or Molly's, 2010 having been a tough year on us all.
> But
>
>>> what I started to write is that in the past few days we have
> noticed
>
>>> a big improvement in Cynthia's mental functioning.  The
> prednisone
>
>>> seems to have mended her neural pathways, or at least improved
> her
>
>>> mental functioning.  The past few days CW has been able to think
>
>>> more clearly  and express complete thoughts.  She is being able
> to
>
>>> find her words. And this is a major blessing for us all, because
> as
>
>>> she is moving closer and closer to her spirit body taking leave
> of
>
>>> her physical body, we are able to talk together in meaningful
> way,
>
>>> meaningful for both Cynthia and ourselves.
>
>>>
>
>>> Last week the Hospice Chaplain came to speak with  us, to discuss
>
>>> what we could expect in the days and weeks to come, and what
>
>>> arrangements needed to be made. It is impossible  to think of CW
> not
>
>>> being here, perhaps because the Highlands is so steeped in her
>
>>> ineffable spirit that she will never really be gone; that every
>
>>> room, every inch, every flower pot, every teaspoon, has something
> of
>
>>> Cynthia in it. Never has someone become so intertwined with a
> place
>
>>> as CW is with her home, here at the Carmel Institute.
>
>>>
>
>>> And so we remain, camped out on the borderlands with our mother
> and
>
>>> grandmother, awaiting the crossing.
>
>>>
>
>>> Much Love,
>
>>> Honey and Sarah Williams
>
>>>
>
>>> PS. A quick update on Sarah.  She has recovered from the surgery
> she
>
>>> had in September and we are all relieved to have it behind us.
> She
>
>>> has found temporary employment in Palo Alto at a travel site
> start-
>
>>> up.  When she was recently home for a week and was going through
> a
>
>>> box of old papers,  she found  journals relating stories of
>
>>> afternoons at Grandmas, of walks on the beach and the sea air,
>
>>> stories that told how Cynthia had made a sanctuary for us all.
> When
>
>>> I was telling CW about the stories Sarah had found, and reminding
>
>>> her that she had opened her heart and made a home for so many
>
>>> people, she thought about this for a moment, then said, "Well you
>
>>> know, it's because I really like people".
>
>>>
>
>>>
>
>>
>
>> _______________________________________________
>
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>
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>
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>>
>
>
>
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