well, it's over. She died on Tuesday, very peacefully. The wake was on thursday evening, and it was like a high school reunion for me. All these friends from years ago, It was laughter and tears. The new grandchildren are darling. Before the funeral yesterday morning, I took another xanax, then went to the chchurch. The oldest daughter did two readings and the son did one. My poem was after communion. I did it loudly and clearly, with expression. I know my friend was cheering me on. I am including it here:
My soul sister KB is a Catholic Druid,
and I am a random heretic.
Her God rises like sap in green things.
She takes the wafer at Mass,
but finds communion just as well
in the lanes of her herb garden.
I find my God in the soft eyes of friendly dogs,
in iris petals, in book pages marking chapters,
or hiding under the steaming lids of stewpots.
For KB, the trinity is as real as brick,
and as true as the songs her children sing
at play on the backyard swing.
Yet the God we share is alive,
and we find him in one another's faces,
and in our common history we can trace his thread.
on. I am including the poem here: