We gathered early last Saturday at the site of old museum ruins. First maybe 70 of us, then 100, before long 500. We rolled down the stately streets of Charleston on various versions of two wheels — some on tricked out carbon-frame Treks, others on garage-dusty clunkers, the wee ones on training wheels.  Actually, we all wobbled on training wheels, as we tried to find balance on the hard pavement of grief.  We rode in mourning, and in celebration, and in our wake, silence.  No rattle-hum of car engines, no whizzing by of SUVs. The streets were ours, and Edwin’s, for a short 2 mile jaunt on a steamy weekend morning. When we met up with the rowers out on the water, bidding their shipmate a traditional mariner’s farewell, we tossed lilies and gerber daisies on the harbor. A floating bouquet that stretched the length of the Battery. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Since Susan’s last post, our friend Edwin’s life, cut tragically short, has been celebrated as poignantly and exuberantly as he lived. At the other end of the longevity spectrum, her mother-in-law took a nap, as is a 93 year-old’s privilege, and kept sleeping. As graceful a passage as one can hope to make.

And so we toss lilies into the harbor. We remember. Around the corner, the school year starts to rev up, cranking its own engine of routines and obligations.  Our computers and calendars emerge from summer “sleep mode.” We get busy. And somewhere, flowers drift lazily on the tides, searching for safe harbors, welcoming shores.

~ by Stephanie on 08/06/2010.

2 Responses to “Afloat.Lilies.Searching”

  1. lovely. Harriet

  2. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything so beautiful — exquisite —
    and I’m so sorry to hear of the loss of this great man.

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