WE REMEMBER YOUR HUMOR KRISTY

 

I happened upon this photo today while looking over your emails to me. It was one of your last races, only a few weeks before you passed. Here you are in the middle wearing a red jersey. Here is what you had to say:

I did the Merced Crit and that was very interesting because they had

the 1,2,3,4 Women start together.  There was a very strong Pro Women'

team: team High Road.  5 of us broke away, including 3 High Road

riders.  It was pouring rain, and you can't imagine how nice and

smooth it was to be among competent, calm riders.  I was momentarily

proud to be a woman.  However, after I won the first couple primes,

that moment lost it's luster when they began to attack me.  They

worked well together.  Attacking, blocking, and when I bridged gaps,

they instantly counter attacked.  It was a pleasure to see first hand

what a good team can do.  The finish became very confused because the

riders we lapped tried to jump into the mix, and that was no bueno.

Anyway, I probably got 4th and 1st in my Cat.

I'm very sorry you all couldn't have been there, and you will be too

when I tell you that the High Road team changed out of their wet

clothes in the most lingering, exposed and Euro way.  Very much

appreciated by the guys warming up all around.

 Dimitriy made an appearance and tried to make me feel good or

something by pointing to them and loudly declaring, "See they have big

ass, they are exactly sprinter, you are for road and Time trial".  But

he was all smiles, spreading cheer and goodwill.

I had to chuckle at your legendary sense of humor, which I miss everyday. Kristy -- you have not been forgotten. Anyone who reads this will most undoubtedly smile and say, “That sounds like Kristy, I miss her. And it’s true you are deeply missed. Today I will hang another blue “evil eye” on the tree. The tree is grateful. So am I. 

A HEART ON FIRE

 

Today when I came back from my morning walk I was greeted by the Japanese Maple near the front door. I brought it with me in the back seat of our Jeep when we moved from California to Arizona. It was in our garden as a volunteer from the larger mother tree. You watered it many times. It has been a constant reminder to me. Your heart was on fire Kristy. And it has never left me. Happy birthday to one who would have been 46 years old today. We remember you in all your glory and keep your fire in our hearts always. 

KEEP RUNNING JACK

Yesterday our dear beloved dog Jack left this physical realm. I had him for 17 of his 18 years and I strangely thought I was taking care of him. What I now realize is that he was in fact taking care of me. You, Kristy, loved him dearly and were concerned whether he would live a long life. I told you he would. I wanted to keep that promise.

For those of you who did not know who Jack the dog was, he was my constant companion, always following me from room to room and making himself comfortable in various beds scattered throughout the house. He never let me out of his sight. He was not looking for attention. He just wanted to know I was okay. During the last few weeks of his life Jack stopped following me. He watched me from his bed on the couch but could no longer muster the energy to get up. We were devastated at this rapid decline and tried everything to counteract the effect of chronic pancreatitis but to no avail. In the end Jack finally convinced us he was ready to walk on.  Jack had determined I would be okay now. It was his time to go.

Jack - I have been so used to your constant presence and I am only now realizing the enormity of the gift you gave me. 18 years for such a small dog is no small feat. What you gave me is greater than anything I could have expected. You gave me a reason to love and to hope and care. You gave me Kristy every time you looked at me. You gave me comfort. You gave me everything you were. 

I hope you and Kristy are now together, running in that far meadow up in the hills chasing the cows. You can keep running now Jack... and don’t look back. That blinding light that was Kristy is now you as well. And we shall meet again. 

GRIEF vs RESIGNATION

Today, as I think back upon the last 14 years, I am remembering the journey. There was a point in time when I welcomed Grief as it had become a known entity. It was like holding my breath under water and knowing I would have to surface at some point. But the point of extreme Grief can often become an obliteration. A hurt so deep it removes all else; so crippling your mind has to stop and fall to its knees. Eventually you have to stand back up and say enough is enough. It takes a mighty severing of the cord which is not without painful withdrawal. A withdrawal from Grief. How absurd.

After Grief comes Resignation. A type of cold-war agreement. I will behave if you will behave. It’s not a surrender but more like an agreement between two powerful nation-states. I have been careful to keep this agreement. I will no longer surrender to Grief. I now depend on the ceremonial practice of remembering, which always ends in Gratitude. 

Gratitude is a good place to be. 

Reflections on your 45th Birthday

 

Today, on your 45th birthday, I am reminded of what you wrote in 2003:

“I do not expect to be made happy at every turn. Neither do I expect to be made sad. I welcome both. I do not expect my heart to plod along safely, not do I want it to. My only expectation is that I feel deeply. Pain, pleasure, grief, euphoria, loneliness, fulfillment and onward. I would be silly, and and ungrateful to resent the fact that we did not last longer."

“My life is passing quickly. I want to feel grief, elation, sorrow, happiness, pain, pleasure and uncontrolled euphoria.  I don’t care anymore about keeping my heart safe.”

These feelings describe you completely. Not a person to shirk in the shadows, you embraced life with both hands.  You died fighting for your life after being hit by a car while riding your bike at the front of the pack. I think of your passion and conviction every day, especially today. 

Kristy, life is so short and precious. Ride into the wind and don’t look back my love. 

IN THE WAKE

 

Keep running my love. I am right behind you. 

KEEP SHINING

I witnessed the wonder of the moon in eclipse last night and could not help but think of you Kristy. As the moon was enveloped in shadow I saw it change. It was blinding in it’s white light and very very slowly became more and more subdued. But I knew, like everyone else watching, it would eventually be restored to it’s original ferocity. How appropriate it happened on your birthday, this reminder that we are all in a process of change and transformation. Yes, you are not here with me but I sincerely believe you are still passing through me. You have changed me and made me in many ways who I am today. And I am still changing because of this. You brought me so much joy as a child and as an adult. It was not always easy as we were both changing during our journey - both apart and together. Today as always you are moving through me. Who and what I am is and has been transformed because of you. I will look at the moon in a now way from now on. Travel on my love. Keep shining. 

13 YEARS LATER

Today I hung another piece of blue glass outside. Now there are 13. They shine and sparkle like twinkling  eyes. I am thinking how fortunate I am to know you as a daughter, a friend, and a teacher. I see you in others all the time. In the generosity of my sister. In the humor of my brother. In the abilities of your sister. And in the wisdom of your seven year old nephew Ave. Part of us is with you and part of you is with us. So it shall ever be.

Reflections on Grief and Going Forward

 

Lake Cabot Where Kristy Ran

I wrote this to a friend today, reflecting on Kristy and my journey of the last 12 years...

"I have felt profound regret for many things. Some so trivial it was only a way I think to allow myself a diversion from the bigger picture. I still remember the day I finally decided to hold on to something besides the pain. It was while driving to work at the gallery in Prescott with tears blinding my eyes. I was so accustomed to the lump in my throat and the overwhelming pressure of denial that it had become a symbol of my love for Kristy. Without it what would I replace it with? Acceptance seemed impossible. 

Funny though that in my dreaming moments when I wake or go to sleep I still remember my regrets. The times I could have, should have still haunt me. Not the times I made her happy, but the times I disappointed her. But I kept coming back to the facts... I loved her. She was. She lived and loved and was truly alive. 

I remember soon after her death when I was closing out her bank account and the banker said, "Well at least you know she is now with God and has no more pain." I was incensed. I immediately replied, "She did not believe in God and neither do I." I now realize it was cruel of me and unnecessary. But these things stay in your mind. I also remember feeling more alive (though not always in a good way) than I ever had. The lines between dimensions had been blurred. I saw Kristy in unexpected places. I knew she was seeing things through my eyes. I felt life and I felt death. My heart was ruptured and was filled with strange new feelings and experiences I could not explain.

I have grieved her as a part of me and I have accepted now the reality of her death. Today I am utterly amazed at my friends who celebrate their loved ones graduation to the spirit realm. This is not who I am yet, though I am closer now than I was 12 years ago.

I feel that continuing to allow myself to exhibit grief at this point is an act of selfishness and prevents me from being truly open to those around me. It must seem as a constant complaint to many as there are only so many times you can say you are sorry. What I do feel strongly is that it allows me to feel compassion for those who have also lost their children. I will never consider offering consolation to them as unnecessary. It is a different person who goes forward after this type of loss. Taking their hand is like giving your love to both the griever and the grieved, and it is my way of honoring Kristy as well."

Running Without a Leash

We remember you today - Jack and I. 

Jack is now 14 years old and has a hard 

time seeing. But I know he still

dreams of you. In his dreams he is a puppy and you 

are running together at Lake Chabot.

Jack tries to catch a cow. That results in 

the leash being put on again. Oh well, it

was worth a try. 

Kristy understood.