Roughly 150 close friends of my mothers were at her memorial yesterday. They knew each other as dancers, as patients of my mom, as old friends, or as family. But each of us saw, when we looked into each others eyes, an element of my mom inside. “Salaam” translated from the Arabic language to mean, literally, “I see god in you”. But when we spoke the word to each other yesterday, we were talking about my mother.
Every part of my mother and her life was highlighted in the ceremony. As is common in memorials, everything that was said painted my mother in a positive light. The difference between my mother, and many others, is that positive is all there is.
My mother’s spiritual leader opened up the ceremony. He then invited me to speak, and I said what I had prepared. I felt moved, at the end, to speak an extra piece of words. Something I hadn’t prepared. Something I was feeling now. I felt my mother’s presence so much as I spoke, that it was nearly too intense. But I maintained control.
My godmother then spoke. And Hawaiian chanting was performed. Marco showed an incredible movie he had edited over the months since my mother’s death. It was well sequenced, cinematic in its pacing and style. I smiled as I saw the clips of my mom and I interacting. Of me pushing her in the wheelchair, and swinging my legs behind me like a Broadway performer.
My mother’s colleague and teacher David Kern spoke eloquently about her life. About her endeavors. And about the people she knew and loved. He spoke directly to me, for a portion of his speech, and this touched me deeply.
We finished up with a few speakers from the public, including my father. Finally, finishing up in a ball of tears, we chanted our way out of the energetically suffocating space, and into the hall next door for refreshments and further talks of my mom’s brilliance.
Finally, those of us who were intimately involved in the end went to Casanova’s restaurant for some decompressing and celebration. There was a feeling of great release in the air. And even I felt light and clear.
The day went perfectly. My mother’s presence was felt by many, and the things who were said about her could not have been kinder or more truthful.
I will always remember my mom’s memorial as a sort of bookend. A step towards finality of emotion in these emotionally rich times. Tonight at 5:00pm Hawaii Standard Time we will go to La Perouse beach to scatter her ashes. As we let them fly in the wind, she will dance with her best friend, my godmother’s ex-husband Ron Sturtz. His ashes are also scattered there.
And this is appropriate. My mother said, in one of her final days, “In my next life, I want to be a professional dancer.”
And her next life starts now.
