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Monday, March 20, 2006

In Memory

A lot of the verbiage on so many blogs is about the most trivial matters. Others deal with local, regional, national and/or international news and commentary. Some, like this one, deal with philosophy and perspective which can sometimes border on the trivial. But some blogs deal with life and death issues and are about as personal as one can get.

The author of The Useless Tree is in mourning. His remarkable 14 year old son died yesterday. Many of us know about the trials, travails and great joys of his son's life through the book, Aidan's Way (Understanding disability from a Taoist point of view).

So, my one post for this day is in memory to Aidan Martin Crane. He has touched so many lives through the words of his father. As Luke Skywalker might say, "I feel a tremble in the Force".

5 comments:

  1. My condolences.

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  2. Read the other posts down the page on "The Useless Tree"...reading about the harrowing trip into the ER a few days ago made my heart skip a beat! I can't even imagine the struggle for control that Dr Crane discusses. Returning to Stillness at that point would be hard.

    It's amazing how, when you feel that slight detatchment and objectivity...you can just stand back and watch, without being wracked by the nerves associated with the event happening.

    Truly a special child, that Aidan.

    Here's a story I made up off the cuff a few years ago to post on a Yahoo message board after a relative died:

    "An elderly lady passed away one day. Afterwards, her 9 year-old grandson was talking to her husband. 'Grandpa...why did grandma die?'

    The old man thought for a while and then said, 'Come with me for a moment.' Entering the home's study, he pulled a pair of candles down from a shelf and set them on a plate. One of them, he left unaltered but the other, he cut away so that a large piece of wick was showing. He then lit the candles and asked his grandson, 'What do you see?'

    The grandson looked at them and said, 'One candle's really bright and the other one's not.'

    Nodding, with a soft grunt for emphasis, he then left the candles and went back to his chair in the den. His grandson followed him out. After a few minutes of sitting there quietly, the grandson could not resist and asked, 'Grandpa? Why did you do that?'

    The grandfather said only this, 'Go check on the candles and tell me what you see.'

    The grandson walked into the study and came back a few minutes later, still looking puzzled. He told his grandpa, 'One of them is really bright and one is not. The bright one has burned down more...'

    Once again, the grandfather nodded with a soft grunt of acknowledgement. He resumed rocking slightly in his chair, saying nothing.

    Again, after a few minutes, the boy could not resist and asked, "Grandpa? I still don't understand...I asked you why grandma died and you lit two candles...why did you do that?"

    The grandfather again simply said, 'Go check on the candles and tell me what you see.'

    The boy, looking unsure, walked into the study again. After several minutes, he came back looking as confused as ever.

    He told his grandfather, 'The bright one's burned down a lot. The other one's still standing up really tall.' Once again, he got a nod and a soft grunt.

    Yet again, the boy asked and was sent into the study. This time, he was a long time coming back. The grandfather was waiting patiently in his chair, resting and waiting. Suddenly his grandson walked back into the room, tears streaming down his face.

    'She was a really bright candle, wasn't she, grandpa?'

    The grandfather smiled, hugged his grandson, and simply said, 'She sure was."

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  3. Oh, yeah..Trey?

    Your "Last 10 Posts" Column reads really really badly right now:

    [sic]
    In Memory
    Of Rotten Canned Meat
    ...
    ..
    ..

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  4. Floundericiousmi: Thank you for sharing that story. It's really beautiful. If you haven't already, you should share it on Dr. Crane's blog. Others need to read it.

    As to your observation, I almost fell out of my chair in hysterical laughter. I guess we can chock this up to the phenomena of unintended consequences. :-)

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  5. I lost my grandma very recently. Before that, there were many trips to the hospital. I remember that it felt like the emotions and pain would come bubbling up...and I just needed to allow them to settle back down again. They would bubble up again eventually, but each time it became easier to allow them to settle. The pain was still there, but it no longer felt like the pain was in control.

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