Funeral for Rex
What an amazing event today - full of tears, open emotion, joyous reminiscing. It was such a healing process to come together, and get some great stories about Rex for everyone.
Hectic morning - lots of preparing, TomG and crew arrived with facilities from Tippett Studio for the service (heaters, tables and chairs, coffee machine, beverage). By 1 PM people began showing up, and it hit me hard. Three or four times in the next hour I had to excuse myself for fear of breaking down. M and Rev Steve, and Rex's family showed up by 1:30. More people arriving, and by 2:10, Steve started the ritual. A reading of one of Rex's poems (we uncovered an enormous amount of fantastic works of art and writing at his apartment). A memory of what Rex meant to him. A sage smudging. And one his favorite Leonard Cohen songs played ("First we take Manhattan. Then we take Berlin."). I went to the mic (choked up) and invited anyone to come up and speak.
It was such an amazing collection of community I witnessed. I wonder if Rex had any idea how many great friends he had, and how much his family truly appreciated him. I would think so. People had such great memories of how wonderfully he treated them. How his generosity and capacity for concern touched them. How smart, stimulating, sly, he was in conversations. His easy way with all kinds of people. His sense of humor, and the jokes and funny anecdotes helped make our feelings real.
Everyone told us how much they appreciated Bonnie and I opening our house and arranging the gathering. I could only say that we were glad to do it, to give something back, to give everyone a place. M had his laptop with a slideshow of pics, and we played some of his favorite music, and people brought in several cornucopias-worth of food. As the day went into night, (and after a 4.0 quake rattled through, epicentered in Berkeley... his spirit departing the earth?), I became very at ease - not that the loss was made any less horrific, but the realization that what was left in its wake was enormous, and a fantastic thing. LX Rudis said 'he's only as gone as we let him be gone, in our hearts," and I agree and would add this : Rex fostered his myriad friends of different backgrounds. We keep him in our hearts, and our togetherness keeps his memory alive.
There was an additional undertone to his condition. When Rex's body expired, they took him into the OR to extract his organs. The surgeons found out he had extensive stomach cancer, which had spread into his liver, and was terminal within a year. All the unanswerable questions - how much he knew from a doctor about the seriousness of his condition, if he knew instinctually his body was dying; how long he had been dealing with the pain; why he didn't bring it up in any detail with friends; what was going through his mind in the seconds before he fell - could drive you mad ricocheting in your mind. The facts are (and M has provided us with most of the insight) : in the preceding weeks, he had shown no mood change of having received the inevitable news, nor any outward signs of significant stomach disturbance; that he was looking forward to hosting a BBQ at his place the next weekend, and birthdays to be celebrated next month; that his last few hours and minutes were spent doing something he enjoyed, with good friends; that he was spared (and did spare us) the excruciating and drawn-out process of dying in front of his friends. This changes nothing about how much we loved him and will miss him, but in some small, indescribable way it's a comfort, and makes the death a tiny bit less senseless, that he went quickly and with no suffering.
Mark has started a Wikipedia page to honor Rex and his lifetime of art and artist support. Please view it, and share in his life's memory.
Hectic morning - lots of preparing, TomG and crew arrived with facilities from Tippett Studio for the service (heaters, tables and chairs, coffee machine, beverage). By 1 PM people began showing up, and it hit me hard. Three or four times in the next hour I had to excuse myself for fear of breaking down. M and Rev Steve, and Rex's family showed up by 1:30. More people arriving, and by 2:10, Steve started the ritual. A reading of one of Rex's poems (we uncovered an enormous amount of fantastic works of art and writing at his apartment). A memory of what Rex meant to him. A sage smudging. And one his favorite Leonard Cohen songs played ("First we take Manhattan. Then we take Berlin."). I went to the mic (choked up) and invited anyone to come up and speak.
It was such an amazing collection of community I witnessed. I wonder if Rex had any idea how many great friends he had, and how much his family truly appreciated him. I would think so. People had such great memories of how wonderfully he treated them. How his generosity and capacity for concern touched them. How smart, stimulating, sly, he was in conversations. His easy way with all kinds of people. His sense of humor, and the jokes and funny anecdotes helped make our feelings real.
Everyone told us how much they appreciated Bonnie and I opening our house and arranging the gathering. I could only say that we were glad to do it, to give something back, to give everyone a place. M had his laptop with a slideshow of pics, and we played some of his favorite music, and people brought in several cornucopias-worth of food. As the day went into night, (and after a 4.0 quake rattled through, epicentered in Berkeley... his spirit departing the earth?), I became very at ease - not that the loss was made any less horrific, but the realization that what was left in its wake was enormous, and a fantastic thing. LX Rudis said 'he's only as gone as we let him be gone, in our hearts," and I agree and would add this : Rex fostered his myriad friends of different backgrounds. We keep him in our hearts, and our togetherness keeps his memory alive.
There was an additional undertone to his condition. When Rex's body expired, they took him into the OR to extract his organs. The surgeons found out he had extensive stomach cancer, which had spread into his liver, and was terminal within a year. All the unanswerable questions - how much he knew from a doctor about the seriousness of his condition, if he knew instinctually his body was dying; how long he had been dealing with the pain; why he didn't bring it up in any detail with friends; what was going through his mind in the seconds before he fell - could drive you mad ricocheting in your mind. The facts are (and M has provided us with most of the insight) : in the preceding weeks, he had shown no mood change of having received the inevitable news, nor any outward signs of significant stomach disturbance; that he was looking forward to hosting a BBQ at his place the next weekend, and birthdays to be celebrated next month; that his last few hours and minutes were spent doing something he enjoyed, with good friends; that he was spared (and did spare us) the excruciating and drawn-out process of dying in front of his friends. This changes nothing about how much we loved him and will miss him, but in some small, indescribable way it's a comfort, and makes the death a tiny bit less senseless, that he went quickly and with no suffering.
Mark has started a Wikipedia page to honor Rex and his lifetime of art and artist support. Please view it, and share in his life's memory.
posted by pegasusgiraffe at 10:22 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home