passing away

Recently, we lost a member of our staff here at the Oasis. She worked on-call here and had only been here a few times, but enough for us to get to know her and like her. And suddenly, out of the blue, she passed away.

It's always a shock when someone relatively young, who seems relatively healthy passes away like that. That's been on our minds here at the Oasis, so tonight in group I suggested that we write about death. I was a little nervous suggesting this topic because I was afraid it would seem like a downer or possibly upset people. But I did it anyway, and people had some really great things to share. Hope you enjoy it.



My Mom, by Anonymous Woman

My mom died three and a half years ago. She had emphysema and in 1997 had half of her lung removed. She told us after the surgery that she would probably have only five years left. No one wanted to believe that, of course, but five and a half years later she passed away. Myself and my husband were on one side of the bed and my little brother and his wife were on the other side. I was holding her hand when she took her last breath and passed on. I held her hand for about five minutes, then I let go. After I walked out of her room, I fainted and ended up in the the E.R. The doctor said this kind of thing happens when you're close to a person. I like to think that she is in heaven looking down on us and smiling sometimes, and shaking her head at other times. I also believe that spirits can come and visit us in our sleep.



Grief and Eagles, by Anonymous Man

My brother didn't make it out to the canyon with me the last two times I invited him; things just have a way of coming-up, of surfacing, and we postpone our pleasures until next time. I finally brought him out there, but only in the form of ashes. My brother who had always seemed so alive, who'd always dreamed of flying; who, in fact, had just begun pilot lessons but hadn't yet got his wings.

The canyon I've retreated to so many times sits in a central Oregon and is eight miles long, a quarter-mile wide and three hundred feet deep. The Crooked River snakes its way through the canyon's floor. It's the home of lizards, coyotes, redband trout, and lots of birds: magpie, ravens, cliffswallows and especially golden eagles.

Once I had a mystical experience there. In the hottest part of the afternoon, I peered over the edge of the very highest part of the canyon wall, and watched eagles ride the thermals, but watched them from above, looking down at their backs as they slowly circled. It might not sound like much, but it was one of those moments where the world cracks open, or, our normal way of percieving cracks open, and one sees a world of near-indescribable perfection and beauty. Call it a kind of grace. Then, after a time, the world reassembles itself and appears the way it always has. But something has changed. Something deep on the inside.

I hiked up the switchback trail to this place of grace, my backpack holding my brother's ashes, a knife, and a big piece of native salmon. I headed for the eagle's perch, a ledge about two feet wide and five feet across, marked only by their droppings and the bones of animals they've eaten. I cut the salmon into bite-sized pieces and placed them on the ledge, but only after rubbing some of my brother's ashes on the underside of each piece. Then I hiked back a couple hundred yards and waited to see if the eagles would accept this offering, this sacrament.

It didn't take them long. They see everything. Yes, I fed my brother to the eagles. It was hard for me to watch. But he has his wings now, and good ones. Real good ones.



My Brother, by The Captain

My brother died in 2001. He was 20 years old. Seems surprising when someone dies so young. His death wasn't a surprise, though. He'd been sick all his life really, one thing after another, and then there was the last thing and the doctors said "there's nothing we can do" and my dad and stepmother took him home and that was that. We waited. We didn't know how long he had or how exactly his death would look, all we knew was it was coming.

Turned out he had two full months. And he was surprisingly healthy all the way up to the last week. Then he couldn't eat anymoe. In the last two days he couldn't even drink. He'd swallow a thimble full of water and then vomit up a litre of fluid, we didn't even know where it was coming from.

The day before he died, he wanted to go out on the front porch. I sat out there with him awhile -- someone was always with him by then, we never left him alone -- and I watched him. I tried to talk to him some, but it was like he couldn't hear me, like I wasn't even there. I watched his eyes as he stared out across the valley and realized he wasn't looking out at all -- he was looking in, turning slowly inward, like what was outside was inside him as well, like the things inside were all that mattered. It was really amazing, watching his slow exit through a door deep inside himself.

I was not surprised to hear at 6 o'clock the next morning that he was gone. "We lost him," is what my grandmother said to wake me. And I'm no longer afraid to approach that final exit myself, knowing that I'll simply sink inside myself until there's nothing left of me in this world but my empty shell.

at long last!

Writing group has been on a summer hiatus of sorts. It wasn't exactly planned, it just happened. But now we're back in effect and ready to update this here blog. Today I suggested that everyone write about a meaningful experience they had in nature. Here's what they wrote. Enjoy!

Fuzzy -- by Dilly Scott

Teddy and I walked out one morning. It was fully daylight and there was a little orange and white kitty that really did not belong at the Lambert's. It was the last nice weekend at the coast that October and I know they were anxious to go. We had two kitties but I was platonically in love and I asked him and he handed me the kitten. It was about four months old, maybe a little more, but not much. I just prayed it would be ok because sometimes Teddy pulled very hard on his leash, but he was a furry shepherd and thought we all belonged to him. Anyway, I snuggled him and put him on my dad's chest because he was still sacked out and he could not resist the little guy and there was no question about our keeping him. We wrangled a little about the name and then settled on Fuzzy.



Naturalism, by: Greatness

Many aspects of life will contrast with the artificial. Growing and learning will have been a hand in hand experience. It is not so available that a specific or unique situation should be recollected. Yet, I will share of an instance that is to allow for one to recognize of a simplistic fashion I have utilized to perceive of a non-artifical interpretation of life on an even and consistent flow necessary to maintain relevance and purpose.

The physical instance of being of healthy and functioning society or expecting to remain of such has required that any rogue opposition will have little effect to counter your goals or expectations at large when you know that simply it was not meant that your being should be subjected to trespass or harm only to satisfy the idle interloper who is not capable of meeting or exceeding your own interpretation of naturalist advantage.



Nature, by Anonymous Woman

One time when I was camping, I was like 21, and a group of us from job corps went to camp. They all started to yell for me to get my flashlight out, they were saying we were being attacked by big bobcats. I was like "no we're not" so I got my flashlight and it was a bunch of racoons! So we got up and fed them hot dogs and marshmallows. They enjoyed the hot dogs but the marshmallows were a different story. They were getting all sticky and didn't know what to do. We eventually went to sleep and the next day there was a mess with what the racoons were originally getting into.