Yesterday afternoon Liz and I went to the memorial for Tom Moore, my friend who died a couple of weeks ago in yoga class. The service was impressive and beautiful. In addition to a lovely service of a semi-traditional kind, my yoga teachers and his, Denise and Bob, gave beautiful eulogies. Unfortunately, I was not wearing my hearing aids, so I didn't hear Bob very well, but I managed to grasp that he said it was fitting that Tom was in his first class in Orange County twenty years ago, so the fact that his was Tom's last yoga class meant that things had come full circle. Then he led the group, a very large group that filled the entire sanctuary, with standing room only out in the lobby, in the yoga invocation we say at the beginning of every class.
It impressed me that the place was so full of love. I saw people from yoga classes I had not seen for years because they had moved to other states, and come back just to remember Tom.
The group then went to eat Indian food, but I didn't go. R and I went out for a walk and Japanese food instead. I needed some time to thing about all this, particularly since, as Denise noted yesterday morning in class, I've been so "scattered." Trying to gird my loins for the next crisis, which is fast approaching.
My mother is failing fast. Her neck has been bothering her, and she rarely opens her eyes anymore. By the evening, she cannot walk. It would be a blessing if she would go peacefully, before her dementia gets so much worse that she forgets how to chew and swallow and starves to death. But my dad is going to pieces, calling me at all hours, in a panic because he does not want her to die anymore than he wants to die himself.