tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72577400409478662762024-03-04T22:53:08.250-08:00Nancy Jones UpdateIn January 2011, my wife Nancy Jones was diagnosed with leukemia. <br>
This is the story of our journey, told through email updates to our <br>
family, friends and community.Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.comBlogger123125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-70094146263790500772012-02-09T16:05:00.001-08:002013-07-01T08:09:55.045-07:00A conversation on the couchHello, everyone.<div><br />
</div><div>As we move into our lives without her, I have one last thing I want to share with you. I recently found a recording of Nancy on my phone. Last July, she and I were having a conversation on the couch in our living room, and started talking about the battle, the future, our belief and faith. For some reason, and reached over to my phone and tapped the voice memo app. I recorded a few minutes of our conversation before she fell asleep.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The recording is linked on the sidebar of this page, and <a href="http://fairfaxjourney.com/goodies/NancyOnCancer.mp3">you can listen to it here</a>. Be ready for your feelings, as you hear her voice. Here is our conversation.</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><div><i>Nancy: ...you could say I'm willing myself to push myself a little harder every day, to, like, exercise, or eat when I really don't want to. So, it's more of a...it's fight, fight to me is a struggle. I'm fighting through something, I'm pushing through it, I'm fighting to live. I'm not fighting cancer, because you really can't fight cancer.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i>But then the faith, too, isn't like I have faith in the universe. My faith isn't going to make me live. My faith is going to allow me to accept what cards I've been dealt. My faith is going to allow me to accept whether I'm going to live or I'm going to die. Because it's not heart-centered to just be 'I'm going to fight through this, and I'm going to live', and because of my faith, god is going to have me live. Because that may not be the case.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i>...And I don't think it's faith alone. I could sit here and have faith the universe is going to give me a million dollars, but unless I'm willing to work hard, that's not going to happen either. Like, faith requires action.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i>Tom: Yeah, I remember in my studies how...it seemed to me that finding faith had several levels, like the first level was just trusting something outside of yourself. And then the second level was taking action based on that trust. Because it's one thing to have that trust and keep it all inside, but behaving...as though you have that trust, and functioning in the outer world as though you have that trust, is a completely different level of expressing that faith.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i>N: Well, you can even go to Catherine's statement on Stand & Deliver, because if the goal is creating the workshop, and/or the goal is beating cancer, one has to have a vision that one is going to be able to do that. One has to have the vision to live, or the vision for acceptance....there's got to be a vision. And you've got to have some passion around life....and, you have to take action. Like the action is taking the drugs, the action is using the sunblock, the action is getting sleep. On some level, the action is deciding where to take action and where to not take action. Because, I rested for two months, but I just got into a rut, staying in bed and doing the same thing over again. I just felt like I was somewhat dying inside. The one thing about working was that, and I don't want to push the working too much, because there is the down side of overdoing it, but actually starting to get engaged in my life takes my mind off of what I'm going through, and I felt more passionate about living. I was starting to feel not that much passion about living, because I felt like my existence was pretty narrow, or not that purposeful. That's even why, when I was in the hospital, I was taking all those coaching calls. My life needs some kind of purpose, and the whole purpose can't just be coupled around cancer. Like, you either choose to live with cancer, or you choose to have cancer.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i>T: Hmm, I don't understand. To live with cancer versus have cancer?</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i>N: Well, it's either...does the cancer take over everything, or are you living a purposeful life with cancer?</i></div></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div>So. Nancy lives in our hearts, after living a very purposeful life, and I am beginning to step into my new life and find my own purpose. My story belongs elsewhere, as it is no longer about Nancy. Unless I find more to say about her, or you do, this is my final NancyJonesUpdate. You can always reach me at <a href="mailto:tdc@alum.mit.edu">tdc@alum.mit.edu</a>.</div><div><br />
</div><div>With love and deep gratitude,</div><div>-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-73014244037701011462012-02-08T22:30:00.000-08:002012-02-09T07:51:03.328-08:00The closing (day 49)And so we are coming to the end of this journey together. So many of you came tonight to the closing ritual, I am deeply touched. There were more than seventy people attending, in a room with seating for fifty. I collected dozens of hugs, and my body is still reverberating. I saw friends from thirty years ago, a dozen of Nancy's fellow designers and architects, Pathways comrades and mystery scholars and mentors and mentees, family and friends...I feel so full.<div><div><br />
</div><div>And so empty. The white roses from tonight's altar are on the table next to me, lovely and simple like the ritual Val Szymanski led tonight. Zen teaches the beauty of emptiness, and I can feel that through the memorial service, and through the loneliness of my silent home. The cooling fan in my laptop is the only sound, except when I click the keys to write this. Or sniff back my tears.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Like the Tara prayer, which has held me so well for 49 days, the Funeral Prayer we chanted together tonight brought an ancient wisdom to the process of grieving our loss. We were a great chanting group, make no mistake. As we spoke the words of the prayer, at first only the Priest, and then the Collective, a lot of energy moved through the room, and perhaps the cosmos.</div><div><br />
</div><div>If you were not there, you might speak the prayer aloud. First, set sacred space, as Val did so well...we took refuge in the buddha, the dharma and the sangha, but I believe you might choose your own sacred space, as this is a transcendent prayer. If you can do it with another, in a measured cadence spoken and not sung, repeated three times with a pause between lines so the synergy of your voices moves the intention, you may feel a bit of the force of seventy good chanters in a small room, addressing a beautiful focused altar with Nancy's ashes, flowers, our wedding rings, a picture. It was like sitting in the middle of the Gyuto Monks, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tf22JS9IGFs&feature=related">throat-singing a bridge to the divine</a>.</div><div><br />
</div><blockquote class="webkit-indent-blockquote" style="margin: 0 0 0 40px; border: none; padding: 0px;"><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>O Compassionate Ones, </i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>Abiding in all directions, </i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>Endowed with the great compassion,</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>Endowed with love, affording protection to sentient beings,</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>Consent through the power of your great compassion to come forth;</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>Consent to accept these offerings concretely laid out and mentally created.</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>O Compassionate Ones,</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>You who possess the wisdom of understanding, </i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>The love of compassion, </i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>The power of doing divine deeds and of protecting in incomprehensible measure;</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>Nancy is passing from this world to the next.</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>She is taking a great leap.</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>The light of this world has faded for her.</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>She has entered solitude with her karmic forces.</i></div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>She has gone into a vast silence.</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>She is borne away by the great ocean of birth and death</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>O Compassionate Ones,</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>Protect Nancy, who is defenseless</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>Be to her like a mother and a father.</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>O Compassionate Ones,</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>Let not the force of your compassion be weak</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>But aid her.</i></div></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i>Forget not your ancient vows…</i></div></div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i><br />
</i></div><div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><i><br />
</i></div></blockquote>I feel cleaned, empty, soft-lonely-grateful-content-quiet. I have one more thing to send to you, as we breathe our sadness, and turn our attention back out to our own incarnations, allowing Nancy's to start to fade from our presence. Perhaps tomorrow.<div><br />
</div><div>Love,</div><div>-tdc</div></div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-18622887602099674322012-02-07T23:09:00.000-08:002012-02-07T23:10:21.592-08:00Sweet dreams, Richard (day 48)Hello, friends.<p>I am sorry to pass on to you an odd counterpoint to Nancy's journey, as we nearly reach the end. Her father, Richard Jones, passed away early this morning at the age of 89.<p>Dick was ready to go, in a lot of discomfort the last couple of years, and grieving the loss of his wife a year ago, and Nancy, of course. He was a US Army Air Corps pilot in the Flying Tigers in WW II, flew P-40's, P-51's, then all the early jet aircraft as a test pilot. His name is in some history books, his stories were amazing, he was a fierce, tidy, disciplined man. He was a full colonel when he retired, then had another full career teaching, and working for CAL-OSHA.<p>I remember him talking about practicing delivery of big nuclear weapons in the early '50's using F-86 Sabre fighter jets, about flying a B-26, a P-61, all kinds of amazing planes, about building ICBM silos in the California and Arizona desert, about the time a hot pilot landed too close behind him and chopped his P-51 fighter in half, detonating all the fuel and munitions and burning the magnesium bits in a fireworks display that lasted for an hour. About shooting up Japanese troop trains in China in 1943, about parachuting out of a burning P-40 and getting back to the base with a lot of underground help, just in time to keep his stuff from getting given away. The man was damn lucky he was never killed in action, and saw more adventure in his life than anyone else I know.<p>Dick, we all love you, and Nancy loved you. May the Tara prayer hold you in your transition to the light.<p>So sad that he had to see his daughter pass away first. But it's also true that Nancy never lost her father. The light and the dark are ever in balance. See you tomorrow.<p>Love,<br>-tdcTom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-21614824168579720112012-02-05T08:55:00.001-08:002015-07-08T16:19:57.855-07:00Building a house together (day 46)Good morning, friends.<div><br />
</div><div>I have more stories to share, perhaps too large to share fully. <a href="http://fairfaxjourney.com">Building a house and home with Nancy</a> was perhaps the greatest thing I've ever done. I know it was her deep life-long desire to build her own home. I think I can share some of the bits now. Especially since my last story was about a time when I showed her I was 'right'. Building our home, she was mostly 'right'.</div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="http://fairfaxjourney.com/2005/04/07/prelude-to-a-dream/">It was her idea</a>, after all.</div><div><br />
</div><div>As we entered the project, working with the architects and contractors, she had a firm idea of what needed to be done, and so did I. Our battles were legion, and we evolved a set of rules that allowed us to express what we knew, in relationship.</div><div><ol><li>Anything concerning the design or appearance of any element of the house, Nancy needed to be involved.</li>
<li>Anything involving the functionality or energy-efficiency of the house, I needed to be involved.</li>
<li><b>We each had complete veto power.</b></li>
</ol></div><div>This forced us to treat each other as clients, to enroll each other in things we believed strongly.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Sooo...the stories. The best part of doing this together was how we accumulated things for the house even before we broke ground.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>The Faucet</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>Once we'd gotten our building permit, I started shopping on Craigslist, and soon found our kitchen faucet (brushed nickel Grohe, modern single hole design, pullout-style) for $120. I showed her the photo, she said, "Sure, that looks great. What is this?" I explained CraigsList, and she scoffed. So a couple of days later, on our way to another event, we stopped at a nice house in Burlingame, and I bought our $700 kitchen fixture for $120 cash. Brand new, full installation instructions, all the accessory bits. I set it in her lap, she looked it over carefully, and said, "OK, how did you do this?" Later in the day, I showed her how to search Craigslist, and OMG, I created a monster.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Within a month, she found a Toto toilet for half-price, our Roche-Bobois couch for less than half price, the kitchen sink (fer crissake!) at half price, and discount outlets for La Cava & Kohler bathroom fixtures, lighting, god knows what else. It became a cash flow problem, as we were buying these things out of our paychecks for cash. Within a year, she had ordered solid douglas fir doors in British Colombia, the EcoSmart alcohol fireplace from Australia, the stove backsplash (a birthday present, just what every growing boy wants :) and every single sink and vanity in the bathrooms in the house, all at great prices. In the meantime, I got our stove vent, dishwasher, refrigerator, bathtub, and two other Toto toilets at great prices.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We were a killer shopping team. She knew what to look for, I knew how to find it.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>The Kitchen Light Fixture</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>During foundation construction, a huge cardboard box showed up at our apartment one day, about 3x3x5 feet. I opened it, and found the ugliest lamp shade, about 2x2x4', I had ever seen. We engaged in a heated discussion, under rule (3) above.</div><div><br />
</div><div>She simply told me, "Trust me, this is going to make our great room look great." I was dubious, and finally said "OK, honey, I trust you." She was right. Here is a pic, most of you have seen this, the expen$ive copper hanging shade totally makes the room, especially when lit. I'm sitting under it now, writing this, praising her vision. Imagine this room without it, ech, flat. By the way, the Grohe kitchen faucet is visible, our first purchase for our home.</div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOS80T3SBoAt488CJ8rJPAdueH2xrglP2eItVzRWLAJxzO1YNi1BUMQj-M0e0qtL73SAPE4vtN9BegTNzZ_hARu-XA40N9tWgvlY0aQZL6cIaJYYrUXV6UECAHvX7j7CNeyBq2yu-Efy3/s1600/kitchen_dining-729815.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOS80T3SBoAt488CJ8rJPAdueH2xrglP2eItVzRWLAJxzO1YNi1BUMQj-M0e0qtL73SAPE4vtN9BegTNzZ_hARu-XA40N9tWgvlY0aQZL6cIaJYYrUXV6UECAHvX7j7CNeyBq2yu-Efy3/s320/kitchen_dining-729815.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705696251185465810" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Of course, our electricians cursed the choice, because they had to fabricate custom cables of differing lengths, and install it Perfectly Level as hung from a sloping ceiling. I think it took two guys a full day -- and a lot of scaffolding -- to do it. But it looks Fabulous.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>The Artwork Purchase</b></div><div><b><br />
</b></div><div>The green artwork visible in this photo was purchased while we were pouring the foundation. Unfortunately, we were (1) selling everything we owned to cover the cost, and (2) Nancy did not ask me before spending $4000 on it. She actually hid it under a blanket in our storage unit, so I wouldn't see it. In the mean time, I sold my dearly-beloved BMW M5 and M-Roadster to cover our construction bills. </div><div><b><br />
</b></div><div>I love the artwork, and keep it up in the house now. But it was a huge trust violation. For me, this piece of art represents one of the worst moments in our relationship. She regarded money as something to be used, while I'm more cautious, a saver. We had a great partnership, as long as we made our decisions in partnership.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Slate Floors</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>Nancy had specified an Italian porcelain tile for our floors, designed to look like slate, at $8 per square foot. And our dear friend Bill DeCarion had told us repeatedly to come check out his place, <a href="http://importtile.com">Import Tile in Berkeley</a>. Finally we dropped by one weekend, and in 45 minutes, Nancy had thrown out her entire concept, chose Brazilian Black Slate for the floor at something under $3 per square foot, glass tile for a bathroom, travertine for the entryway, black granite counters, and Crema Marfil for our master bath. We placed a $9000 order with our delighted sales person in less than an hour. Nancy said "trust me", and after a short heated discussion, I did. This single shopping trip probably saved us $8000.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Her decisiveness was a one of her great virtues. And a great teaching for me, as I tend to gather data and think for days before making this kind of decision. I got to see how well things turned out when she felt into what was correct or most perfect, and just chose without hesitation.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>The Glass Railing</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>While I'm looking at this pic, I remember what it took to make the glass railing safe (seen here around the top of the stairwell). Nancy was insistent on glass and metal. But the far left end Could Not Be Anchored To The Wall, That Would Be Ugly. So we had the end overlap the soffit on the wall of the stairwell, so that anyone leaning heavily against it would push the top against the soffit. Our building inspector agreed that it was safe, mostly because I was able to talk about the flexibility and strength of glass materials as an MIT engineer.</div><div><br />
</div><div>1 + 1 = 4. We were far more than the sum of our parts.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>The Dishwasher</b></div><div><b><br />
</b></div><div>This pic also reminds me that we avoided a dishwasher vent on top of the counter. The counter top is elegant and clean, with only the Grohe faucet sticking through it. I enrolled our building inspector into letting us install a Miele dishwasher without the vent, as Miele's have an internal system to handle it.) So Nancy wanted it that way, and I found a way to make it happen</div><div><br />
</div><div>Maybe 1 + 1 = 5.</div><div><b><br />
</b></div><div><b>Christmas in July</b></div><div><br />
</div><div>We finally got our occupancy permit in July, 2008, and I started bringing over all the stuff we'd accumulated in storage. Bar stools for the kitchen island in their shipping boxes, Tibetan carpets, the Roche-Bobois couch, the new dining table chairs (and her marble dining table, which I had never seen), artwork, her nice dishes, decorative pillows, thangkas...and it was like a month-long Christmas experience. Nancy knew exactly where everything should go, and our move into our new home was rapid and transformative. We went from life in a 1BR apartment to life in an amazing custom space in the period of just a couple of weeks.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I can honestly report that I was stunned as it all unfolded. It looked Great, and still does. She was matter-of-fact, she knew what it was going to look like. I don't remember her ever expressing pleasure at our achievement, but she was quite satisfied.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The oddest part of the whole thing was that she was off on a trip with family when we actually moved in, so I occupied our home by myself at first, without her. It was also my 50th birthday, which she missed. Now I'm alone in our home again, the end of our relationship with this house together is just as it began. I wonder what that is all about...as she was the one who wanted to build a home together. But I now have the pleasure of living in this beautiful space that she designed.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Love</div><div>-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-12994918818090879022012-02-03T16:00:00.001-08:002012-02-05T11:24:04.733-08:00A Backpacking Story (day 44)<div>Hi, everyone.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I've been thinking of my own Nancy stories for weeks, of course, and here is a good one that includes pictures. Nancy and I went camping a few times in the summer of 2005, and in September, she was ready and willing to try backpacking with me. So one lovely clear Saturday morning, we headed for my favorite backpacking site in Portola Redwoods State Park, in the Santa Cruz Mountains. It's a nice drive, we have brunch on the way, get to the park, and spend a few minutes putting on our boots, getting our packs nicely adjusted, and we walk about a half mile to the trail head.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The first part of the hike is a 600-foot climb that takes about 35 minutes. I think we are about 3 minutes on the uphill trail when Nancy starts complaining. The first picture below is taken about ten minutes in, when she is starting to really bitch. Pretty soon she's telling me that "this is worst idea you've ever had", "this is just a forest, what's so special", "I hate this", and then the abuse really starts. I'm reminding her that the climb is all at the beginning, I'm carrying all the heavy stuff, that we will be up at the top in fifteen minutes, etc. etc. We are both out of breath, she is as angry as she ever gets, we're getting deep into a fight...when we reach the top and sit on a log for a few minutes to drink water and catch our breath. She is still pissed, and I have to talk her into continuing, when we put our packs back on, and start the hour-long stroll along the ridge through a stunning, pristine redwood forest.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's silent as we walk. After about ten minutes, she stops and turns around and says, "this is really beautiful". After another half hour, she apologizes for all the things she said. The second photo shows our camp site, before I put dinner together. We have the entire forest to ourselves. That night, as we're snuggling into our zipped-together sleeping bags, after a meal of steaks, red wine and all the trimmings, she admitted to me that this was a wonderful trip, and she is having one of the best times of her life.</div><div><br />
</div><div>With her, I learned how much fun it is to be spontaneous, and to this day, spontaneous adventure is one of my favorite things.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Love,</div><div>-tdc</div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgn4ZzI3z0qyijamjx_bKX-QSKY15RiqvzVR1VMg0w7trQTE7gWBvq9f5cwebzluytELS45OOCJPYLOh38Ndn0mIKPrURfw_YeeiyR34YvAjDIVa87hsfCBlns6cxpDQJ43xWTod4xqjk0/s1600/backpacking_at_portola-717181.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgn4ZzI3z0qyijamjx_bKX-QSKY15RiqvzVR1VMg0w7trQTE7gWBvq9f5cwebzluytELS45OOCJPYLOh38Ndn0mIKPrURfw_YeeiyR34YvAjDIVa87hsfCBlns6cxpDQJ43xWTod4xqjk0/s320/backpacking_at_portola-717181.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705063545905855538" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJNb4go1-hKi_HGN8Qno3tU0wGDY1558UUkCnLWNW6ij_zYEZmcrhc1fgp7yNHEV9jJQXsgxQgdeorrDUoMTbH_Cxrc6RD05_SmR-jomKQsx0y_M-ozAtlX2D-Us-dWvbYXWFTX6wqTuy/s1600/backpack_camp_at_portola-718148.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJNb4go1-hKi_HGN8Qno3tU0wGDY1558UUkCnLWNW6ij_zYEZmcrhc1fgp7yNHEV9jJQXsgxQgdeorrDUoMTbH_Cxrc6RD05_SmR-jomKQsx0y_M-ozAtlX2D-Us-dWvbYXWFTX6wqTuy/s320/backpack_camp_at_portola-718148.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705063549414798210" /></a></div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-29000756556400005792012-02-01T23:24:00.001-08:002012-02-01T23:24:55.221-08:00The boiler is out (day 42)Hello, everyone, six weeks after we've lost her.<p>As Doug Adams said, the Answer to the Question About Life, The Universe And Everything Is...Is....42. And here we are, six weeks after she is gone. On one level, nothing is happening, and on another, much.<p>Metaphysically, I believe Nancy has moved on. I've not felt her in ten days, so the NancyJonesUpdate journey is becoming quiet. I finally have nothing to report about Nancy. <p>Oh, ouch, I just get to finally feel my complete loss. I've been gifted with ongoing contact with her spirit, easing my transition into my new life, but now she's gone, gone. I pray she's found bliss. <p>The outer dream of my life mirrors this loss. The entire heating system for the house we built failed yesterday. A Munchkin boiler provides all heating and hot water for our energy-efficient home. Yes this is funny -- was Nancy a Munchkin boiler? And — get this, mystery scholars — the ignitor failed. I awoke to a cold home yesterday, and all is repaired now. But it's still amusing. Especially because the pressure-relief valve on the system also needed replacement too :-)<p>If Nancy was anything, she was an ignitor. All the stories I hear, all the impact she had on Pathways workshop participants, co-workers, family, and me...all were related to her ability to bring fire, to pop something, to light something. When it came to pressure relief, well, many of us delighted in how much fun she was with a few tablespoons or glasses of wine she had consumed. I'm seeing her life in a somewhat different way today, the pattern of high internal pressure, flipping to pressure relief.<p>No wonder we were together. I don't polarize like that, I'm pretty steady, a good balancing force for her. Although I must share with you, I found an "archetype test" that she did a few years ago, put myself through the same set of test questions, and found that we are far more alike than different. We both key into pure energies, and have a lot of range, similar range, Warrior, Magician, Lover. Perhaps I've found the ultimate test system for finding our ideal partner, our soul mate. Hmm.<p><br>I ran into one of my neighbors and friends tonight. He mentioned how he walks by our house, and no longer sees Nancy out watering the yard in that meticulous way she did. Out come my tears. It's the little things that reconnect us all to our grief. It's all still here, moving us, and moving through us. Let her emails, her notes, your memories of her penetrate you...for our rainbow bridge to her is fading. Soon it will be gone. See you next week, at the memorial.<p>Love.<br>-tdcTom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-3971663534444244152012-01-26T17:22:00.001-08:002012-02-16T00:58:44.641-08:00An S&D workshop story (day 36)As many of you know, Nancy (and I) coached and facilitated dozens of workshops over the last 18 years. In August 2010, she became the west coast manager the Pathways Institute, running the core programs. &One of our friends, Heather Hafer (whom some of you know) sent me this story a few weeks ago, and gave me permission to share it. Nancy was direct and earthy, something I've always loved about her.<div><br />
</div><div>Love,</div><div>-tdc</div><div><br />
<div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>This is my absolute favorite memory of Nancy:<br />
<br />
We were at the ropes course - it was the start of the "Stand & Deliver Round That Shall Not Be Named". We were in southern San Francisco; and it was a very brisk day. It was a new group so we were all still getting to know one another. It was a day full of thick observation and introspection as we mentored our participants towards self revelation, discovery and teamwork. And...I had to pee. As I mentioned, it was a brisk day, Nancy and I were standing so close to each other that we were actually overlapping. We were huddled together as the following conversation occurred.<br />
<br />
Heather: Man, I have to pee!<br />
<br />
<i>Nancy looks all the way around their surroundings and opens her hand as if to showcase that nearly the entire universe is readily available, and proceeds in a matter of fact, yet simultaneously slightly befuddled, tone.</i><br />
<br />
Nancy: Well go. There are a thousand trees to choose from.<br />
<br />
<i>Heather looks around skeptically, and gives a slight grimace of doubt.</i><br />
<br />
Heather: I don't know...<br />
<br />
<i>Nancy rifles through her jacket pockets and hands over a tissue that looks as though it had already been used four...possibly five...times already.</i><br />
<br />
Nancy: Here (hands over the tissue).<br />
<br />
Heather (takes it politely, still looks around): I don't know, there's people around. Maybe I can hold it.<br />
<br />
Nancy (at this point somewhat angrily): Heather, what are you afraid they're going to see?!<br />
<br />
Heather: Um, my big fat white ass!<br />
<br />
Even re-reading it I'm not sure if it was actually that funny, all I can say is that Nancy and I laughed hysterically for at least a half an hour. We were both in tears, and then we still continued to laugh occasionally throughout the rest of the day. We had to stop looking at each other because every time we did the laughing would continue. It still cracks me up every time I think of it. I'll always have that memory and it will always cheer me up. I am grateful. <br />
<br />
I'm also grateful that with Nancy as my mentor, I did eventually pee, in public, with questionable tissue - laughing the entire time - and not caring at that point who saw what.</div></div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-44706760115078609722012-01-25T14:20:00.001-08:002012-01-25T17:10:04.788-08:00Some of the learning (day 35)<div>Hello, friends.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Five weeks now, and I'm starting to see where I've been changed and developed by Nancy's loss. She seems to be doing well also.</div><div><br />
</div><div>My sense of her is that she is detaching from us, returning to more essential form, and doing what she needs to do. Contact is only once every four or five days now, and when I do feel her, she is more ethereal, less personal. When she dropped completely out of contact a week ago, I was plunged into the fullness of my loss, and had a long, painful night alone. God, my tears are endless. Little things crack the dam every day...I heard "Hollywood Swinging" by Kool & The Gang on the radio last week, thought about Nancy discoing in LA listening to that song thirty years ago, and had to pull over in my car to cry it out. My home is empty, my heart has a hole in it, and it takes all my discipline to avoid pouring too much wine on my sadness, or seeking endless distraction.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I also realize that I've lost nearly all my lingering fear of death. I've had such a solid sense of Nancy's spirit at times, I cannot deny it, and however little I know about experience after dying, I am completely reassured that it exists. I've also felt Nancy in safe, secure, blissful places, and Palden-la told me last week that she believed Nancy was in the Land of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tara_(Buddhism)">Taras</a>. I don't know much about what that would be, but resting in a place that full of compassion and resource must be wonderful.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have more information about our memorial service on February 8th.</div><div><br />
</div><blockquote><div>- the correct name of the church is <a href="http://sanfrancisco.citysearch.com/profile/map/902478/san_francisco_ca/sei_ko_kai_christ_church.html">Sei Ko Kai Christ Church</a><br />
<p>One of my friends tells me that this is a gathering place for Japanese who spent time in our internment camps during World War II, and that they have a wonderful community.</p></div><div><br />
</div><div>- <b>Please plan to arrive at 6:45pm. </b>The service will begin promptly at 7:00pm.</div><div><br />
</div><div>- <b>Please let me know by Friday if you plan to attend. </b>We are trying to get an idea of how many to expect.</div><div><br />
</div><div>- The service should not last more than an hour.</div></blockquote><div><br />
</div><div>I would still love to hear more Nancy stories! One of our friends confirmed Tina Pfeil's sailboat story, and also mentioned how Nancy used to power-nap under his desk at Walker in the early '80's, perfect hair, elegant clothes and all.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Love,</div><div>-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-55918283856541401772012-01-18T18:11:00.001-08:002012-01-18T18:12:16.474-08:00Memorial service info (day 28)Hi, everyone.<p>My friend Val Syzmanski has confirmed the location for Nancy's memorial service. It will be held on February 8th, at 7pm, at Skeikokai Christ Church, 2140 Pierce Street, San Francisco. Her organization, <a href="http://bamboointhewind.org">bamboointhewind.org</a>, uses this location for their zen buddhist meditation and meeting space, and it sounds like it will be spacious and delightful. I look forward to seeing you there. You can see a map at <a href="http://g.co/maps/uvmdf">http://g.co/maps/uvmdf</a>.<p>Today is our 28th day of mourning for Nancy, the fourth of seven weeks, more than halfway through. The shock of her death is wearing off, finally, and I'm now getting hit by the full force of her loss. I have depressed days, and know that I just need to open and let my feelings flow through me. When I do, the depression fades...and my feelings of sadness and tragedy can be overwhelming. I found her hair last weekend, the hair we removed last February when she was getting chemotherapy for leukemia...and I just lost it completely for a while. Sometimes, it's really hard to get anything done. But most of the time, I'm able to focus. <p>I'm getting stuff handled, cleaning out drawers, throwing away things, consolidating shoes and clothes, starting to tackle paperwork. One thing at a time, so I don't get overwhelmed. I have a roommate possibility, and I'll have to get to work on clearing the second floor of the house, one garage, and getting some finish details in the house taken care of. My list seems endless, but I'm just doing one thing at a time, and there is steady progress.<p>I've been learning more about the 49 days of mourning, and the theology from the Tibetan Book of the Dead. There is a remarkable Viking/Penguin edition of this book, with an introduction by HH The Dalai Lama, that is frankly blowing my mind. The introduction alone is a dense and very informative introduction to buddhist practice. <p>A friend suggested that I keep open to my intuitions about Nancy's passage, and indeed I am experiencing some strange feelings when I reach out to her that don't seem to be mine. Yesterday morning I felt very agitated, and had to go off for a few minutes at work to practice a tonglen meditation to transform fear into the heart-wisdom and love of Tara. It seemed to help. And I also have a strong sense that others are helping as well. She does feel more ethereal to me, the last time we connected. Perhaps I'm feeling more of my loss because indeed she is farther and farther away.<p>More stories! Send me your stories, and let me know if I can share them on this list!<p>Love,<br />
-tdcTom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-84904316955854405092012-01-12T13:58:00.001-08:002012-01-12T13:58:19.121-08:00A Remembrance, by Tina Pfeil (day 22)A Remembrance of Nancy A. Jones<br>January 2, 1952 – December 22, 2011<br><br>I first met Nancy sometime in 1980, when she joined Walker Associates Inc in Los Angeles as an interior designer. I had been employed there as a graphic designer for six months or less when she arrived. She became my "girl crush" before she became my friend. (As defined by various internet sources, this is <i>an attraction to qualities one envies or admires in another woman</i>…)<br><br>Nancy was physically petite like me, and only one year older. Yet, she carried about her an authority and maturity beyond her years. She expected her opinions and performance to be valued, and clearly didn't appreciate it when she felt she was being slighted or ignored. Even when she was riled up, her righteous indignation was somehow endearing.<br><br>Whereas I would spend my first minutes at the office each day putting on my makeup, filing down my bitten nails, and trying to make my hair conform to any kind of shape, it seemed to me that Nancy always arrived perfectly put together. Her hair was coiffed in a neat poodle cut, and her polished nails and shoes often coordinated with her clothing. She dressed in a manner both professional and boldly feminine. Lots of color. Nancy wasn't the only woman at WAI to raise the appearance bar for me. I learned, and stepped up my game, but never quite achieved making it look effortless, like Nancy did. There was a palpable amount of shoe envy going on at WAI amongst those of us with the XX chromosomes. In one of the two photos I recently posted, it is possible that Nancy is casting her eyes downward in a moment of reflection. Equally plausible to me, is that she is eyeing and complimenting (coveting) Clara Igonda's shoes.<br><br>One Thanksgiving weekend in New York City, I survived a killer cold, bundled up in Nancy's fuzzy, 3/4 length coat, which she had loaned me when my own (favorite) coat was stolen from my car at work. <br><br>As opinionated as Nancy was about her work life, she extended her own personal brand of unconditional warmth and acceptance towards me as a friend. Throughout the years, as we'd lose track of one another, then reconnect, I recall receiving a bit of loving advice from Nancy here and there, but never one ounce of comparison or judgment. A favor I returned, I like to think. It was the quality of the time we spent together, rather than the quantity. She had such a capacity, that I feel certain many of Nancy's friends have felt similarly nurtured by her. The thing I enjoy recalling the most about Nancy in our days of yore, was her voice and laughter—and this unique talent she had. She could chuckle and speak whole sentences at the same time.<br><br>My favorite story about Nancy:<br><br>The project managers at Walker Associates were encouraged to recognize and reward their teams (which typically consisted of the manager, one designer and two draftsmen) for their work. One Monday, this story circulated: Nancy's project manager had taken his team out for a meal and a late afternoon sail in a rented sailboat/dinghy from Marina Del Rey. After too much fine drink and food, the manager became incapacitated, unable to pilot the boat. Nancy took command of the tiller and sail and sailed the boat, the ailing manager, and two extremely nervous draftsmen safely back into the harbor just as dusk closed in. When pressed, Nancy graciously soft-pedaled her manager's impairment but confirmed the other facts. It intrigued me to learn yet another facet of Nancy. Underneath her toy poodle-miniature pinscher exterior, was a less domestic sort of animal altogether. She, of the fire engine-red fingernails and stiletto heels, had grown up rowing summer provisions across a lake to the family cabin, and had sailed a sailboat or two. I now had an expanded picture of her, growing up a sometimes-outdoorsy girl, and daughter of a career military man, who could perform under pressure as required. <br><br>Two years ago, I felt inspired to google Nancy and pick up the phone. A somewhat courageous act when a half-dozen or more years had elapsed. That impulse allowed me the opportunity to fill in more color between the lines… e.g., when Nancy spontaneously shared her high school yearbooks and memories with me. I was so not surprised to learn she had excelled at just about everything one can excel at in high school, including popularity and leadership. But didn't peak there. I also got to experience the peaceful elegance of the home which Nancy and Tom built together, which reflects so much of Nancy's taste and style. As she said, after years of creating beautiful spaces for others, she was at last able to create one for herself.<br><br>Nancy and I had lunch together at the end of September 2011, the week before my high school reunion in Los Angeles. We spoke of our shared days at Walker Associates so long ago, and tossed around Nancy's idea for a little pilgrimage we could make to LA, together. Nancy was very thin, and her graft-host reaction presented itself as a first degree burn all over her skin. Yet, her personality and spirit seemed so undaunted by what she'd already undergone this past year, 'twas as though it was ordained that she would survive. I couldn't imagine otherwise.<br><br>I will always be grateful that we each took time out for a two-hour lunch. My sole regret: that my daughter Kit never got to re-meet Nancy, as a young adult. Nancy's parting words to me were, <i>I want to hear all about your reunion—and tell your daughter I want to see her when she's home at Christmas.</i> I know they would've hit it off famously and found much to talk about.<div> <br>At the end, I came to know that Nancy had the heart of a tigress. In my minds eye, she is still/ever rowing (deftly) across the lake to her family cabin, laughing her inimitable Nancy laugh, wearing a red windbreaker, with the wind ruffling her wavy hair. Although it was a tough ride, I thank her husband, Tom, for allowing her friends and family to participate in her final days on this earth through his email updates. To paraphrase an old proverb/adage: <i>friendship doubles our joy, and divides our grief in half.</i><br></div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-54428611179324901422012-01-11T11:30:00.001-08:002012-01-11T11:38:04.316-08:00Who's releasing who? (day 21)Good morning, on this 21st day since her passing. Hard to believe.<br />
<br />
The Tara prayer has been having a remarkable impact. It took me a couple of weeks to realize that it's about me as much as about Nancy, and that the intention created by the prayer is for us to release each other.<div><br />
Here is the prayer again. Notice how it is all about transformation into a form that must be released. It's hard for me to cling to brilliant spheres of light!<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="webkit-indent-blockquote" style="margin: 0 0 0 40px; border: none; padding: 0px;"><i>From Tara's heart, rainbow light shines forth throughout the six realms and the bardo,<br />
</i><i>Enveloping the deceased one, Nancy Jones, wherever she is,<br />
</i><i>Purifying her karma, and infusing her with Tara's radiant blessing.<br />
</i><i>Her form becomes brilliant spheres of light, and dissolve into Tara's heart-mind,<br />
</i><i>A realm beyond the cycles of suffering, a realm of absolute purity and bliss.</i></blockquote><i><br />
</i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">Of course, it could all be projection...my experience of feeling Nancy transform could just be all about me, and there is no spirit out there moving through the realms and the bardo. But I and others have had powerful dream experiences upon the death of loved ones, without knowing they're gone until after the dream happens. I choose to believe that Nancy's spirit is out there somewhere, moving and transforming, loving and feeling loved, releasing us all in her own time.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><br />
</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><br />
</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">My actual sense of her is becoming more ethereal. Where she would drop into my meditations like a solid presence two weeks ago, now my connection to her is more tenuous. She seems farther away, more detached, less personal. Perhaps that is exactly what should be happening, I don't know. It just is. My restless mind wonders if it's important for her reincarnation for me to release her? Does it matter? Ah, so, it just is.</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><br />
</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">Tonight is the end of the third week, and I will be adding the sukhavati practices I mentioned in my last note to my 7pm prayer tonight.</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><br />
</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">On a more personal level, I'm still swept by big waves of grief several times a day. There is no shortage of tears, in fact, they are here now. Again. But I can function, and it's felt good to return to work and be productive in that way. I've augmented my prayer practice by starting to attend buddhist teachings at Sukhasiddhi and Spirit Rock, including a ritual this morning of taking the three refuges and the five precepts.</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><br />
</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">Lastly, I have a request. I would like to find a roommate. I don't think I can keep our home without the financial help of someone sharing the space with me. I'm offering the entire second floor of our house, two large bedrooms with 12' ceilings, a beautiful private bathroom, shared use of the great room, decks, kitchen and dining area, plus a garage if needed, for $2000 to $2500 per month. The price will depend on details like garage requirements, pets, etc. I already have three cats :-)</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><br />
</span></i></div><div>Many of you know how lovely our house is, on open space on the west side of Fairfax, very quiet and peaceful. If you or anyone you know might be interested, please get in touch with me soon.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Love,</div><div>-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-28200164109082516202012-01-04T16:34:00.000-08:002012-01-11T11:17:33.821-08:00Deepening practices (day 14)<div>Hello, everyone!</div><br />
<div>Thank you all who could come to our home on Monday. There must have been at least sixty people, and there was a steady flow of you all from 2pm until about 10pm. During that time, I heard great stories, some amazing dreams about Nancy since her passing, and met many of you from her life that I did not know well (or at all) before. If you were not there at 7pm, I shared my prayer ritual as it has been, and we had a few minutes of silence. Then the stories started coming out, and we had a gathering much like the Jewish practice of "sitting shiva", where I spoke of my grief, and some of my regrets about our relationship, and others spoke of Nancy's impact and way of being in the world. It was absolutely wonderful, and we wrapped it up by singing Happy Birthday to her, and lighting candles. Some of the best rituals are the unplanned ones.</div><br />
<div>Lily, Tina and Karla, let me thank you again publicly for the insight and contribution you offered on this day.</div><br />
<div>I'm very grateful for all the spontaneous support that has shown up, bringing prayer and ritual to this 49-day mourning period. Now, in addition to my Soto Zen friend, Meiren Valerie Szymanski, and Lama Palden and so many of you praying for Nancy, Pearl Ubungen of the Shambhala Center in Boulder, Colorado is holding a <a href="http://www.vajravidyaretreatcenter.org/Sukhavati.htm">sukhavati</a> ceremony according to their Tibetan buddhist tradition. This ceremony is generally held every seven days during the 49-day mourning, and we will have one tonight during the 7pm prayer period. She mentioned to me,</div><br />
<blockquote><div><i>the practice of Sukhavati is connected to Amitabha Buddha and goes well, i think, with your daily Tara practice...there is a short (ten minutes) tonglen practice (sending and taking) where i will practice focusing on taking in whatever nancy might be experiencing in terms of attachment to this life, fear, or any sense of not being able to let go and transition....then sending her a sense of openness, letting go, and confidence to move forward. then i will extend this tonglen practice to include all of nancy's family, friends, communities with the intention of supporting their letting go of nancy.</i></div></blockquote><br />
<div>I've needed a bit of hand-holding to connect my practices to my mourning, and this is a real gift. A tonglen is a meditation where one inhales something they wish to transform, and exhales the transformation. For example, I can meditate to bring in the agony of the victims of a natural disaster, and exhale compassion and resource. The special gift here is the reminder that my Tara prayer is about transformation, that I can pray for Nancy's spirit to let go of any remaining attachment to this life of hers, any fear she may have of moving forward.</div><br />
<div>Lastly, I'd like to share an image and comments I received from one of Nancy's mystery school friends.</div><br />
<blockquote><div><i>The image on the right I took on Thanksgiving day and as I looked though the lens to take the picture my thoughts and feelings were of Nancy. The image on the left is the image I had selected for Nancy as part of my Mystery School gift. I have placed it adjacent to the recent photo image as I sense the recent photo on the right as a continuum of the earlier image. I have not tried to analyze or place context to the photo, other than to say while at the surface a stillness seems to appear on both sides of the log, below the surface, there is a very powerful flow that continues.<br />
</i></div></blockquote><br />
<div>I completely agree that there is flow beneath the surface, both in the images, and in the movement of Nancy's spirit through our hearts, the realms and the bardo. My practice continues. </div><br />
<div>With love and gratitude,</div><div>-tdc</div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBEWzo3Xd4Ilx4xzDMITa9dJHgkBwdRYksoQlvk1YQmj0760OoeqqcIL1zajKBh_6SHW0kyHD8fhX1BrKZxwSnxmZNJvTWylME4vr1rAWRycJRpA2bGDhStwcLHZS_sGrLmZuu_keFPrS/s1600/flow-731431.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693940072644975730" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBEWzo3Xd4Ilx4xzDMITa9dJHgkBwdRYksoQlvk1YQmj0760OoeqqcIL1zajKBh_6SHW0kyHD8fhX1BrKZxwSnxmZNJvTWylME4vr1rAWRycJRpA2bGDhStwcLHZS_sGrLmZuu_keFPrS/s320/flow-731431.jpg" /></a></div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-21536932207953671802011-12-28T11:54:00.000-08:002013-07-01T08:11:58.550-07:00Cremation today (day 7)<div>Friends,<br />
</div><br />
<div>I just picked up the message that Nancy will be cremated today at noon. Another step in her journey, and ours.</div><br />
<div>Tara has many forms in buddhism, and Lama Palden believes that Nancy has an affinity for White Tara, not the more commonly invoked Green Tara. Oddly enough, the first thankga I was ever attracted to, and meditated upon, is a white Tara image. I don't know if the image will be helpful for all of you, but I've attached one to this note, so you can see the visualization I'm working with. I also have a print on her altar.</div><br />
<div>Nancy comes into my meditations very clearly. It's as though we are sitting together, connected as we did early in our relationship, even having some of the dialog we've needed to have. I've never had such a strong sense of someone's spirit after they have passed. It is reassuring, and also helping me get out of the house, and start to take care of some of the things I have to. Today I went to the regular Wednesday morning session at Spirit Rock (vipassana buddhist center nearby) and really liked being in the practice there. This afternoon I will be picking up Nancy's death certificate, so I can start some of the legal activity necessary. And I have a call from work that I think I have the capacity to answer now. I plan to take another week off before returning, but I also owe it to my co-workers to help them keep the fires under control :-)</div><br />
<div>I so love being in our home alone. What a gift, that we built this lovely place together. I've only had one visitor since late October when she entered the hospital, and I think I'm finally ready to spend more time with our friends.</div><br />
<div>Nancy's remains will be transformed to ashes shortly. Again, please hold her in your heart.</div><br />
<div>Love,</div><div>-tdc</div><br />
<div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMl32FT2b6avnvM6GK2SzIxlK1_X_GVmHhxxKA-FAufxNqOOmWck0NiItw00MrDdBvWiJbmVR9I-jgB3G7Z2G2d8cPG8UQQs-n5KD09Q4xrD4KsTA1sPTAA6MyyDsI5KQbh_XyHk31_0Kc/s1600/white_tara-710067.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMl32FT2b6avnvM6GK2SzIxlK1_X_GVmHhxxKA-FAufxNqOOmWck0NiItw00MrDdBvWiJbmVR9I-jgB3G7Z2G2d8cPG8UQQs-n5KD09Q4xrD4KsTA1sPTAA6MyyDsI5KQbh_XyHk31_0Kc/s320/white_tara-710067.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5691270227701346514" /></a></div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-11728719256797818422011-12-26T17:45:00.001-08:002012-01-11T14:41:41.812-08:00Ritual unfolding (day 5)<div>I'm back home after completing a simple buddhist ritual with Nancy, the Jones family, and our friends Tina and Karla and Sandra. Lama Palden, of <a href="http://www.sukhasiddhi.org">Sukhasiddhi</a>, was kind enough to come and bless Nancy's body in preparation for cremation.<br />
</div><blockquote><i>Om tare tuttare, ture soha</i></blockquote><div>This morning, I was able to find the beautiful orange and red sari Nancy and I used on many altars, took it to the mortuary, and Nancy has been bathed and wrapped in it. We added roses and incense to her and her wrapping, and had our final moments with her body. Palden-la feels that her spirit is still here (as opposed to traveling the realms and the bardo), and that Nancy seems to finally be able to take in the outpouring of love around her. I, and perhaps all of us, can take some comfort in the fact that our love is felt and received.</div><br />
<div>For me, the Tara invocation is now the core of my daily practice. It is an unfamiliar prayer, so I am learning about the Taras and their capacities by doing, not by study. There is a whole visualization that moves through my mind as I meditate, I imagine the realms and the Taras depicted on Tibetan thangka images, open to the nature of the heart-rainbow of Tara, feel how her radiant blessing can move through space and time. I'm also working with the new concept of "dedicating the merit my practice" to Nancy. There is much here that is new, and I feel awkward and compassionate with myself at the same time. It is what it is. I trust that my learning her is unfolding just as it should.</div><br />
<div>Mourning is easier with these images and the structure of a daily practice. My feelings and sadness seem to move through me gently and continuously, rather than the throat-lump that has been grabbing me for weeks.</div><br />
<br />
<div>I had a couple of hours of altar construction this morning, which is how I found the sari (it was stored inside the wooden box that was the base of her prior altar :) I now have a larger altar space set up in the great room in our house, with photos, offerings and most of the objects that visitors brought and contributed to her altar in the hospital. Our wedding rings are there, too.</div><br />
<div>Another ritual has been assembling all the photos I have of Nancy, and building an album of the best. If we are linked on Facebook, you can see it at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150435564201752.351557.713761751&type=1&l=98a2cb7541">https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150435564201752.351557.713761751&type=1&l=98a2cb7541</a> I've loved doing this, as the pictures remind me of many happy times we have had, adventures we shared.</div><br />
<div>It's quiet in our home tonight, as I work on a crab bisque for dinner, feel all kinds of feelings, and admire the slender slice of moon out the window at sunset.</div><br />
<div>Love,<br />
-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-10540637554371087212011-12-25T08:20:00.001-08:002012-01-11T14:40:30.663-08:00Healing through dreams (day 4)<div>Warm regards, everyone, this chilly Christmas morning.</div><br />
<div>I've received so many kind wishes, photos and different forms of support over the last few days that I can barely keep count. Please accept my deep thanks, if I haven't contacted you individually.</div><br />
<div>I'd like to share with you some of the dreamwork that surrounds this experience, for me and for us as a collective. I beckon my dreams and honor them as divine communication, and am finding some fantastic healing images are coming through.</div><br />
<div>The night before Nancy passed away, I had this dream: </div><br />
<blockquote><div><i>I'm in a hospital, and I've been there as a patient for a very long time. I'm very weak. Some friends come to visit, and they tell me I can get out; they bring light-colored clothes, help me dress, and start me on a journey out of my room. I follow their instruction, go down the corridor, down an elevator to the ground floor, heading towards the outside. I encounter a few medical staff, who ignore me, and a patient in a hospital gown, who looks at me in pain, as though she is stuck inside her disease process, and recognizes that I am not.</i></div><br />
<div><i>On the ground floor, it gets lighter and lighter as I get closer to the outside, and natural daylight starts to filter in. I go through several unmarked doors to head in the right direction, until I finally open a door to full bright daylight. It's a parking and delivery area behind the hospital, but the light is so bright I can barely open my eyes.</i></div></blockquote><br />
<div>The last words I said to Nancy before she passed were, "I love you, I release you. Now turn towards the light."</div><br />
<div>Early this morning, another dream came through.</div><br />
<blockquote><div><i>I'm in UCSF hospital, walking through the ICU to visit Nancy. When I get to her darkened room, and slide open the door and the curtain, I do not see her or any of the medical equipment or bed. Instead, I see a row of candles, small lamps and colored lights beginning in the middle of the room and vanishing into the distance and the darkness, like an infinitely-long strand of the best Christmas tree lights you can imagine. All the lights are different, and they are close together, so the lights merge and become a straight line of never-ending color.</i></div></blockquote><br />
<div>I find a lot of comfort in this image. It's so fresh that I can't say anything else yet.</div><br />
<div>The morning that she passed away, ten minutes after her heart stopped, one of our friends had the following dream, which they have graciously allowed me to share with you.</div><br />
<blockquote><div><i>Nancy Jones and I are in a small rustic wooden structure, something like a cabin on a large lake somewhere. There is a small number of other people there (maybe 10 tops) but no one from outer life. The mood is happy and comfortable but not raucous, joyous or overly celebratory. It feels like a group of friends getting together for no particular reason. Nancy is dressed as she often was when we were in the MS together – white t-shirt and black tights.<br />
</i></div><br />
<div><i>A time comes when Nancy wants to leave but, for some reason, she does not want to use the door. Instead, she wants to go through an opening that looks like a small window with no glass in it. It's about maybe 12-15 inches square and is about the height of a decorative window that you might find in a door, maybe 3-4 feet off the ground, but it is in the front wall. I quite frankly don't think she will fit through it and tell her she should use the door but she insists and does get through the window. I also get outside but don't really know how I got there.<br />
</i></div><br />
<div><i>Outside there is a small boat, like a rowboat but with a small gas outboard motor. Nancy doesn't know how to handle this boat so I have to teach her how to steer and how to use the twist throttle. We go together in the boat as I teach her how to do this. Although she has never piloted a boat before she picks it up very quickly. We motor over to something that looks like a small breakwater made of concrete that curves over to the shore. I get out of the boat on top of the breakwater and Nancy takes the boat and heads out into the lake.</i></div></blockquote><br />
<div>This person didn't know that Nancy and I were married at the family cabin on a lake in Canada five years ago, and that we intend to scatter her ashes there this summer. It has always been her favorite place in the universe.</div><br />
<div>Love,</div><div>-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-64399292273151927782011-12-22T18:02:00.001-08:002012-01-11T14:43:04.639-08:00Continuing our prayer ritual (day 1)<div>Hello, my friends and family.<br />
</div><br />
<div>Today has been raw and quiet, as I've wandered our empty home and done small things. I've cooked, cleaned, cried, contemplated, refilled votives, done laundry. I emptied Nancy's enormous prescription tray. Somehow I can look at all the reminders of her life, like her dozens of pairs of shoes, and feel happy, sad, present. But the reminders of her illness are much harder, like a dirty kitchen counter, I want to scrub them away.</div><br />
<div>I've been reaching into my own buddhist practices, looking for bridging between Nancy and the divine, and just received exactly the email I was longing for. From a friend and zen priest, <a href="http://www.bamboointhewind.org/">Reverend Valerie Szymanski</a>:<br />
</div><br />
<div><i>Here is Tara's Meditation for the Dead (a 49 day prayer) that you chant daily. I will be doing the same. At the end of 49 days I will close the period with a Memorial Service for Nancy.</i></div><br />
<blockquote><div><i><b><br />
From Tara's heart rainbow, light shines forth throughout the six realms and the bardo,<br />
enveloping the deceased one, Nancy Jones, wherever she is,<br />
purifying her karma, and infusing her with Tara's radiant blessing.<br />
<br />
Her form becomes brilliant spheres of light and dissolve into Tara's heart-mind, <br />
a realm beyond the cycles of suffering, a realm of absolute purity and bliss.</b></i></div></blockquote><br />
<div><i>Meditate in this way during the 49 days after death, dedicating the merit of your practice to the deceased.</i></div><br />
<div>Tonight I begin 49 days of mourning and practice, with this prayer at 7pm PST. Please join me as you feel moved to. I am not intending to continue sending updates each day, but it feels like I have more to share. Speaking of sharing, if you have photos of Nancy, I would greatly appreciate copies. I would like to build an on-line photo album for all of us.</div><div>Love,<br />
-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-55226231050966178062011-12-22T06:56:00.001-08:002012-01-11T14:43:56.832-08:00She's gone (day 57)<div>Nancy Adelle Jones passed away peacefully this morning at about 4:30am PST. Tina Benson, Jim and Kathy Jones and I were there all night with her, loving her and holding her in a quiet darkened room.</div><br />
<div>I don't have any capacity to say more right now. I imagine I will write again soon.</div><br />
<div>Love,<br />
-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-19832854671950293672011-12-21T20:56:00.001-08:002011-12-21T20:56:50.735-08:00The limits of endurance (day 56)Good evening.<p>Even before I got here today, Nancy was deep in conversation with our friend Tina Benson, who married us just over five years ago. Nancy has had enough. Enough treatment, enough hanging on in the face of a hopeless situation, enough discomfort and indignity and medicine and treatment and handling. Babbas Andreadis got here around 5:30, and talked with her and separately with Tina and I. Nancy's choice is clear, to all of us. Those of you who know Nancy well also know how decisive she is.<p>So we have changed her treatment completely. She's been breathing on her own with pressure support for more than a day, so the change was pretty easy and gentle. She is now medicated to handle all pain and anxiety, and is back on a trache collar, breathing air for herself. She's not getting any more antibiotics. She is dozing, able to hear us,and looks completely relaxed and comfortable as Tina and I sit vigil with her tonight. I've called her family, and I expect they will be visiting soon.<p>Please pray for her peace, send her your love, remember all that she is, and cherish her. We expect her to slip away sometime soon, perhaps tonight, perhaps tomorrow.or the next day.<p>I had a white light dream last night, and now I know why. I've told her again how I love her very much, that I chose her. I pray to be fully present for this, and for her to find the love she has always doubted, to join the light I dreamt of. We hold her in our hearts, and wait.<p>Love,<br>-tdcTom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-21556397918317182732011-12-20T21:23:00.000-08:002012-01-13T16:04:13.773-08:00Change in the air (day 55)<div>It's another fairly quiet night in the hospital. Jim and his wife Kathy are visiting, Nancy is napping, and I'm waiting for her night companion to arrive. Nancy is generally doing well, although she has required some norepinephrine to support her blood pressure, and is still running a mild fever.<br />
</div><br />
<div>The hospital contacted me today, and they are starting to talk about moving her in the future to an LTAC, long-term acute care facility. The only one that can handle her needs anywhere near us is in Kentfield (other alternatives are San Leandro and Reno!) Her attending oncologist is against any move at this point, and so am I. As it turns out, as long as she's on a med to support her blood pressure, she's unlikely to move. This is not an imminent decision, but I imagine that our insurance company doesn't want to pay for ICU care forever. This is just the beginning of the outer dance that I'm sure is going to go on as long as Nancy is with us. I'm sure her care has gone solidly into the seven-figure range at this point.</div><br />
<div>Babbas Andreadis, her main oncologist all year and a man I sincerely appreciate, wants to meet with us to go over the current state of affairs. I know Nancy has at least two infections, and the ongoing fever, increasing need for pain medication, and blood pressure support are all concerns. We are going to try to do that tomorrow at 5pm, and whatever comes out of that meeting may have an impact on our situation too.</div><br />
<div>The electrolarynx device, which should allow Nancy to communicate better, should arrive at work tomorrow. I'm hoping to bring that to our meeting, and enable her to talk some about her preferences, her feelings, whatever she wants. It's been weeks since she could talk at all, except for lip reading, and she has some big things she wants to say.</div><br />
<div>Love,<br />
-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-72293205481405525152011-12-19T21:00:00.001-08:002011-12-19T21:00:16.236-08:00Restoration (day 54)I'm sitting with Nancy's brother and sister, Jim and Janet, tonight in her room. Today feels much better than yesterday, on all levels. She is doing better, I'm rested, and I have a solution that should allow her to talk.<p>The friends who have been sitting with Nancy at night all have feedback and suggestions for making it easier for her to sleep, ways to make her more comfortable. And the medical team has been really good at taking the feedback and turning it into standing orders that should make life easier. For example, instead of moving her every two to four hours (standard protocol to avoid bed sores and pneumonia) they are going to give her a good dose of pain meds at 9pm, reposition her a half-hour later when the pain meds are in effect, then let her sleep until she wakes. She's slept a lot today, and apparently rested pretty well last night too.<p>And it's a good thing, as her fever is back. She's currently running close to 102°. She's not agitated or trying to talk much, with a fever like that. Her nurse just brought ice packs, and gave her some tylenol, so it should come down some. We don't know if this is the abscess, a new infection, or some neurological effect. I remember a few months ago, when a temperature like this would really have me freaked out. Now, with all we've gone through, I'm just taking it in stride, and trust the medical team to handle it. There is a lot of competence in this ICU, and I never worry about the level of care she gets.<p>I feel rested after 10 hours of sleep last night, and I'm functioning a lot better too. I was able to get a bunch of bills and things handled this morning, stuff I just couldn't cope with last week. Today was also a good productive day at work.<p>Our community here is turning out to be amazingly resourceful...one friend with training as a speech pathologist suggested that we should look into electrolarynx technology. This is a hand-held sound device that you press against your throat, allowing someone who can move their lips and tongue to talk. I called the UCSF adult speech therapy department today, and they are arranging a consultation. But in the mean time, I've found some models on line, and am ordering one tonight with overnight shipping. With a little luck, Nancy will be able to talk on Wednesday. She will sound pretty robotic -- the sound these things make is not very human -- but I expect that the ability will be welcome. It's going to take some training and practice to make it work, but I'm sure several of us who are often with her will be happy to figure it out.<p><br>There are a number of new folks on this list, so I'm putting my older emails out into a blog, where you can read some of what has been happening up until now. Right now I only go back to late November, but in the next couple of days I will try to get the entire year out. You can see the blog at <a href="http://nancyjonesupdate.blogspot.com/">http://nancyjonesupdate.blogspot.com/</a><p>Janet is spending the night with Nancy tonight, and I think we have a full calendar of folks sitting with her over the next two days. More have joined the caregiver list today; I think we're up to nearly 30. I really appreciate this support. It's time to head home for dinner.<p>Love,<br>-tdcTom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-12100980858097647082011-12-18T17:23:00.000-08:002012-01-13T16:04:39.907-08:00Against the wall (day 53)<div style="text-align: left;">Greetings from our home, the first time I've been here in the afternoon in more than seven weeks.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Today seems to be "wall day" to me. Nancy is up against hers, and I'm hitting mine. My situation is pretty straightforward, I'm just exhausted, again. Janet (her sister) and Cindy (high school friend) arrived this afternoon, and they graciously offered to stay until Leigh arrives to spend the night. I'll need to hold our prayer circle tonight from a distance, perhaps just as another participant.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Nancy is struggling a lot right now, both yesterday afternoon and today, from when I arrived mid-morning until I left mid-afternoon. She wants to talk, but will not or can not make simple clear requests that I might understand by reading her lips. Rather, she will close her eyes, apparently deep in thought, then open them and speak a sentence, or a paragraph, that I cannot decipher. Over and over, for hours, we've been doing this dance. Some bits I can pick up; she's in pain, she doesn't want to die, get her out of here, where is Janet, when will Jim be here. When I ask her to slow down, go one word at a time so I can repeat and understand, she just won't do it. I did get a clear response once, "Shut the fuck up".</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">In the face of this, I’m stretching beyond what I know, to find compassion, receptivity, even look for gratitude for what life brings me. I haven’t lost my temper -- yet -- or even lost my sense of calm equilibrium, as I can see how immensely frustrating this is for her. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">But even more I see her spirit in motion. Those of you who know her well, know that she is a force of nature, certain in her sense of what is right, stubborn, and slow to change. She wants to live, and that is where she is, who she is, her reality. Our buddhist chaplain resource, Denah Joseph, was kind enough to make her way to the hospital at 11am to visit, and facilitate an hour with her today. Mostly she brings Nancy back to her body, to her feeling, and it helps. And she also observes that what we do in our lives, who we essentially are, plays out as we move thought the end of our lives as well. Nancy may be up against her wall and her attachment to living, all the way to the end, whenever that may be.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I want to celebrate that, not make it wrong. Here are two photos I just got from a friend in her mystery school studies, in 1999, showing her working on a mandala, and the mandala itself. You can see all of who she is through these photos, her juice, her precision, her symbolic connection. The center of the mandala is an Iron Cross.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">My internal mantra over the last couple of weeks is from Dogen, a 13th-century buddhist teacher.</div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I am attentively sustained by the profound presence of all buddhas.</i></div></blockquote><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I don’t know why this is my favorite quote in the universe. I just know that it serves for me to chant this inside right now. And yes, my friend the lump is here, right in my throat. Denah also observed that it’s hard to get a lump in your throat when you have a tracheostomy, like Nancy. Perhaps some of what makes it so difficult is the harsh reality of being penetrated at the fifth chakra, the unceasing force of a respirator pushing air into her body. I cannot imagine.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Love,<br />
-tdc</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbxsKp2VuTmQE0lvoI1RWxhIp_Il0LNMa6soN6pvf567TuBBdzUTNDdZ_vsEtYD_pbqpGFmavCSUn3BDPsKF3fhTSm3WwpSYLMokMW9WaVVR2K_RTvPDyF23US6QkAAWKS6QMuyvX3-uFX/s1600/Nancy+Module+3+1999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbxsKp2VuTmQE0lvoI1RWxhIp_Il0LNMa6soN6pvf567TuBBdzUTNDdZ_vsEtYD_pbqpGFmavCSUn3BDPsKF3fhTSm3WwpSYLMokMW9WaVVR2K_RTvPDyF23US6QkAAWKS6QMuyvX3-uFX/s320/Nancy+Module+3+1999.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietOvyIyDmqejWsQbqEIX4Zcixa303zh4XcQpetBSwfKAQNaBMsbrK7EkwpZiEmXtRJQMa2xcvZOILsSm8Vwn-S9xgok_xivh2UJl24O0E2s-baNBfKm-oYQObw7xvgSsPfFcDepji8PuG/s1600/Nancy+Module+3+1999+mandala.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietOvyIyDmqejWsQbqEIX4Zcixa303zh4XcQpetBSwfKAQNaBMsbrK7EkwpZiEmXtRJQMa2xcvZOILsSm8Vwn-S9xgok_xivh2UJl24O0E2s-baNBfKm-oYQObw7xvgSsPfFcDepji8PuG/s320/Nancy+Module+3+1999+mandala.jpg" width="302" /></a> </div><br />
<br />Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-61016098752046896432011-12-17T20:49:00.000-08:002012-01-13T16:04:59.985-08:00On love and sadness (day 52)<div style="text-align: left;">Good evening from Nancy's bedside, where three of us just finished our prayer circle. Tonight I played another Anugama piece, followed by "Chen Rezig" from Gabrielle Roth's Refuge album.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I did bring a hand-made throw for her bed today, some cute socks with a chili pepper pattern, and some silk cloth to dress her. She was happy with the socks and throw, not ready for silk. And tonight her sister Janet brought lavender spray and aromatherapy oil. So the temple has some sensory delights tonight.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">It's been a quiet "couples" day, as there have been no single visitors. Two friends from our couples' workshop last year came this morning for several hours, and Nancy's boss/partner from Millican-Jones and her husband are here tonight to stay all night. Nancy and I had the whole afternoon to ourselves, and my experience ranged from stillness through waves of feeling. We didn't talk much, but we did spend some time connecting, even crying together a bit. I have to say, it's really hard to hold a person who cannot move, and is in a hospital bed.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">This afternoon had a tinge of sadness to it, as we just sat and looked at each other. She isn't saying much, but she was awake all day, thoughtful, sometimes with a furrowed brow, sometimes with a sad look. On my side, I am painfully aware of having to let her go, when she is ready, while still holding space for a miracle. The timing is all a big mystery, and I really don't know where she is in her process. So I can only be present, and feel what I feel.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I've had several conversations over the last two days about how powerful this whole journey is for all of us, as a collective group. There are now 160 people on this list. Several have told me how they wait each night for my update, and I feel compelled to write one each night. I get compliments on my writing, which I appreciate of course. But there is something deeper, and I wonder what it is that compels us all.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">For me, well, I'm facing the loss of my beloved, the woman I chose. For all of you, she's your friend, your sister, your co-worker, your coach. There is something about Nancy that is spirited, beautiful, engaging. An awful lot of us love her, in all our different ways. The irony is that it's always been hard for her to receive, we've talked many times about how she wrestles with feeling loved.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">She is perhaps the most loved, unlovable woman I've ever known. Maybe that resonates us beyond our personal feelings of loss and tragedy and love. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Love,<br />
-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-6895856845463315452011-12-16T19:59:00.000-08:002012-01-13T16:05:36.280-08:00More rest and introspection (day 51)<div style="text-align: left;">Hello, friends.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Today started a little dramatically, as Nancy's blood pressure was dropping early this morning. Her abscess can "seed" bacteria elsewhere in her body, where her immune system does it's job...and triggers a fever or a change in her heart rate at the same time. By 8:30am, she seemed back to her normal state, and medically, the day has been pretty quiet ever since.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">One of her friends brought the lip reader team back this morning, and we had a couple of visits with them, and with our chaplain. We continue to give her opportunities to ask questions, talk about anything she wishes, but as present and alert as she is, so far she hasn't asked for much or talked about much. Nancy will be talkative for a few minutes at a time, then need to rest for a while. So we haven't had a chance to enter an involved or deep conversation yet. I can see how delicate her state is, so I have to practice being very spacious, not asking too many questions, pulling my energy way back so I'm not intrusive. She has asked for some clothes, and I'm bringing some things we can put on her body tomorrow. We have a really beautiful sari, for example, and if I can find it, it will be on her tomorrow. I'm also going to look for some scents and textures, like rose or lavender oil, perhaps silk materials.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I had a few productive hours at work this afternoon, and we've continued to have a lot of quiet, restful time together in her room. Several friends were here for prayers tonight, all women, seems very appropriate. I played an Anugama track called Meditation Ocean tonight for our ritual time.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Hard to believe it's Friday. I'm as adrift in time as she is.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Love,<br />
-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-17936318745477912132011-12-15T20:46:00.000-08:002012-01-13T16:05:54.057-08:00A slight divergence (day 50)<div style="text-align: left;">Hello, everyone.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I'm sitting with Nancy tonight, along with Jim and Kathy (her brother and sister-in-law), right after our 7pm prayer time. That little bit of structure has really pulled us together...I cannot imagine spending time praying with them under other circumstances :-) Nancy's sister was here earlier, and will be back after dinner. Several friends came and sat with her today, another is coming for the night. We seem to be nicely filling the schedule up with folks to sit with Nancy.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Today was my first day back at work since December 5th, so I know less about Nancy's day than usual. All I can say is that she was apparently quite alert and engaged this morning, napped more this afternoon, and seems quiet and thoughtful and present to me since I got here a few hours ago. Tomorrow a friend and our buddhist chaplain are coming with lip reading teams, and I'm hoping she will again have an alert morning, so she can converse, and express and request whatever she needs.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">My side of the day was a little surreal. I'm happy to be doing something technical and professional and impersonal on the computer, a welcome change from the intense emotional roller coaster of the last week. But I'm also tracking how it's separating me a bit from Nancy and her process and experience. This is neither good nor bad, just an observation. It did take a few minutes of conscious effort for me to soften and get present when I got to the hospital.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">The other surreal part is that my co-workers are generally aware of what has been happening, and a half-dozen of them are getting these updates. The ones who know are being very spacious and supportive, and the ones who don't ask me, of course, how my wife is doing. How in the world can I answer? In some cases, I'll tell them she isn't doing well, show a little tiny bit of the huge well of emotion inside, and they find their warmth and capacity to be with my pain. In other cases, I'll just evade the question. One kind-hearted woman simply told me that she'd heard that my wife was ill, and hoped that she gets better soon. I nodded and smiled, and managed to contain the lump that cheerfully reappears in my throat every chance it gets.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Speaking of the lump, my constant companion, a simple walk today was very emotional. It was crisp, autumn weather, breezy, with red maple leaves falling. After all my time in the hospital, I feel like I've been on retreat, and the beauty of the day was delightful. Then I remembered that Nancy will probably never experience this again, and the lump is there. I nearly started sobbing out on the streets of San Bruno, just walking to the market to get a sandwich.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">So there's divergence between Nancy and I, and between the reality I walk through and the one I experience inside. What is real? I've never been so painfully aware of how subjective our experience is, how reality is a state of mind. And I truly wonder what it's like in there, where Nancy is living. Perhaps with the conversations tomorrow, we will know more.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Love,<br />
-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257740040947866276.post-18145159217608667862011-12-14T09:33:00.000-08:002012-01-13T16:06:10.848-08:00Resting into a new place (day 49)<div style="text-align: left;">Good evening, from a quiet room where Nancy is comfortably sleeping.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">The palliative care team here at the hospital is continuing to support us in lovely ways. I didn't realize that they were connected to the Zen Hospice Project, which I've known of and respected for many years, and that our chaplain teaches at Spirit Rock (a wonderful large buddhist facility right over the hill from where we live). The intention/structure I've been holding all year, for Nancy's recovery, just does not serve any more. As I let go of my intention, the relief I feel inside is hard to describe. My attachment to her recovery has been a good thing, has served her and us very well, and has been a big weight on my shoulders. Now I have more capacity to start to deal with our outer lives, her final journey, and my own transformation and sorrow.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Today we met with the chaplain, some of the team members, and the lip reading pair for an hour. Nancy has been tired and napping all day, common after dialysis, so she was not very talkative. But the intention of palliative care is clear, and one of the first things we hope is to create an opportunity for Nancy to talk about anything she wishes, request what she needs. The chaplain is arranging another meeting on Friday or Monday to continue the conversation.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">In the mean time, I'm setting up a shared calendar for the people who are coming to sit with Nancy around the clock. As I mentioned yesterday, this really helps Nancy feel safe. Tonight I started sending out the invitations to folks that have volunteered. You can still send me a note if you want to be a part of her core support group. I am asking members to take a 4 hour visit, or an overnight shift staying with her, at least occasionally, as we go forward. I'm continuing to be here from 6 to 9pm each evening, and most of the days on the weekends. Liza Leeds and Lily Kaplan are helping me hold this, and I want to publicly thank them for their kind assistance.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Nancy is continuing to do fine, although upon waking, she sometimes doesn't know where she is, why she can't move or talk, and gets very frightened. Otherwise, she is aware of her situation, shares some of her feelings, and is napping a lot during the day. Tonight we played Krishna Das during the prayer circle, the Heart Full of Soul album. She's always loved kirtan, and especially Krishna Das, whom we've seen live on two occasions.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">As I sit here, it strikes me that I'm watching all the same monitors (pulse 93 BP 90/60 SpO2 100 respiration 10 temp 38.0). But the numbers don't mean the same thing. Before they were the critical indicators as she descended into a septic hell, underwent surgeries, survived infections. Now they are mere data. The journey is different now, and the data doesn't matter, except to tell us when the journey has ended. So I hardly pay attention to the monitors any more. Who Nancy is, and what she needs, are far more important. That's the gift of palliative care.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">Love,<br />
-tdc</div>Tom Childershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00413394909747864522noreply@blogger.com0