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Some things I’ve learned…

Early on in hospice I realized that often, those with the most to lose at the end of life have the easiest time. By the most to lose, I mean fulfilling relationships vs. a lot of unresolved issues like love unexpressed, anger swallowed, love lost, and so on. In terms of my grief, this has been The Truth. We lived and loved as hard as we could – all in, all the time. I am so glad we did it that way!
Flagging in the Park, June 2015

In a real sense, love is love. I’m three months post losing the Love of my life. Several times in these times, people have told me beautiful, joyous love stories of their own and within my grief, they make me so happy. And I see lovers walking along the sidewalk, people lying in the park, embracing – not to mention sweet parents and children together(!!!), and they make me happy. There is melancholy within my happiness at these times, but happiness is the main thing (though I’m a good ways from happy all the time).

There were times in that last month of Leslie’s beautiful life when love would come down around us as clearly and palpably as if I’d taken a large dose of mescaline. It wasn’t just a momentary thing either – it would be for hours, even days. Aldous Huxley wrote about heaven and hell. That’s what it was.
And there are those questions I asked weeks and months ago: who will I tell my stories to and who will hold me as I pass away? And the answers I’ve found in this embrace and honoring of my grief are that the stories have been told and we’ve held one another and so it’s ALL complete. It’s done. I want more, of course.

I can say these things in large part because of the steadfast love and support from David. Having a son like David is like having a wife like Leslie – more than I could have imagined. Ahhh, Son. I love you. John, Jeff, Aletha, Nora, and so many others play important parts as well.


The Story (a song by Brandi Carlisle)

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don’t mean anything
When you’ve got no one to tell them to
It’s true… I was made for you

So, yeah, I have stories of who I am, where I’ve been… and now you’re gone and who will I tell my stories to? Who will know? And this morning I was listening to this song by Brandi Carlisle and I was thinking how you knew my stories, including the deepest ones, all my life, the good, the bad, all my stories. I was thinking how I knew your stories, the good, the bad, all your beautiful life. I was thinking how in your last months you talked more than ever before about yourself, your childhood, so many stories.

And here is the point: we told one another our stories. I told you my stories; you told me your stories; we lived our stories together. We were made for each other. Who could ask for more?

The Story by Brandi Carlisle (link)

Psytrance, trance, trance culture

Deep in the Heart of Trances: dance floor 8am Sunday

Someone asked me about trance and trance culture and out of curiosity, I googled it. I wasn’t really satisfied with some of what came up, so… though I’m far from an expert, I have learned a little in these past five years. Here is how I see or experience trance (primarily psytrance) and trance culture. Other people will experience it differently – there’s room for us all. Speaking of which, Hey older people! If you liked festivals in days gone by, these events are basically everything you probably wanted a festival to be, except the music is different. Hit me up if you want to go to one of these.

Here is a link to a soundtrack for this journal entry. Just click and play in a different window and click back to here… Aes Dana – Summerlands (chill) or Alwoods – Psychedelic Dream (faster).
Into the forest!

Of course there is the music, but the culture is about more than music. There are shared values and views – including a high value placed on transformation and growth, and an openness to other people’s values and views. For me, trance culture is more about the people and scene than the music per se.

Psytrance! Here is what it’s like. To begin, you have to find out where and when an event is being held. Some of the big ones like Lucidity, Enchanted Forest, Lightening in a Bottle, and Ozora are widely advertised. The smaller ones are discovered via friends, flyers, Facebook, and so on. I want to focus on smaller events, which I prefer over the larger ones (easy to connect with people, easy to find quiet space, and not as much craziness as at some of the larger ones). 
Armadillo Acres

The gatherings are nearly always outside – such as in a forest, at a beach, or desert. Typically there is a drive of at least several hours to an obscure country setting. When you get close there may be one or two small cryptic signs that you have to look for to see.

Down some narrow road and through a gate and you’re on a one lane dirt lane now, winding through trees and ahead is a shade shelter, table, and two or three people (if it’s after dark, there will probably be sparkling lights). Pull over, get out, and walk to the table where you’ll usually receive a friendly greeting from the crew members (maybe my friend Ally Fiesta and me) working the gate. Sometimes the land-owners are at the gate, in which case, it’s more of a business transaction.
Sonic Bloom 2011 (Colorado)
Your ID will be checked, you’ll pay (for smaller festie, about $50 for Friday-Sunday – Not Bad!), and have a discussion about things like leave no trace camping and what to do if things get too intense.
Drive further along that one lane road, up hill and down dale, until you start to see scattered campsites with tents and canopies, sometimes with cars and trucks parked around. Some gatherings have no car camping, some have limited car camping, and at some, almost everyone is car-camping. Car-camping just means driving in and pitching a tent next to your car or truck. Some people sleep in their van or SUV.
Art Outside, near Austin, 2012

It’s a good idea to take some time choosing a campsite. Some people like to be as close as possible to the music and dance floor, while others like to be farther away. The music gets really really really LOUD, so some distance and not in a direct line with the direction of the speakers may be a good idea. Some people will have art or related materials at their campsite. I hang fabric woodblock prints I made as well as Tibetan prayer flags and crystals, and like at home, I always have an altar (there are also altars at the sound stages).
Set up your campsite. People are always willing to lend a hand if you need help. A nice hug is all the thanks anyone will want. You’ll have noticed by now a fair number of people with long hair, dreads, tattoos, piercings, feathers, and so on. And there will be a fair number of people with no outward counter-culture manifestations. Oh look, here comes a guy dressed in a giant bunny suit. Starting to feel like home!
Atrium Obscurum morning meeting

Let’s say it’s Friday afternoon. Sit back and relax OR walk to the dance floor or to the chill stage or dome or wherever to lend a hand setting up. It’s a good way to meet people and get started… there is high value placed on “co-creation” – in other words, these gatherings are not about passively attending, listening to the music, dancing, and so on. They are transformational gatherings, where we’re all involved in making it happen, i.e., co-creating – and in every case, working toward a higher vibe, a higher experience, a tranceformation for everyone.

For several years I’ve been a member of a crew – Atrium Obscurum – that puts on events. In addition to doing stuff that any crew member does like setting up, taking down, working the gate, and so on, I also bake cookies to bring (15-20 dozen, always with extra chocolate chips, of course) and I often present a workshop. More on workshops later.
Making deco, Kai and Tyson (Atrium Obscurum)

The sun is going down, but the music hasn’t yet begun. Maybe time to wander over toward the dance floor. Someone said something about a ceremony… sometimes the ceremony involves designated people wearing all white clothes with chanting and incense, and sometimes the ceremony will bring everyone in so that at some point there is a joining and swirling togetherness and the music starting up thump thump thump it’s really LOUD and this is really fun! The dance-trance ritual has begun.

At the events put on by Atrium Obscurum the music starts Friday night about 9 and stops Sunday about noon with the main climax happening from about 4 to 6 Sunday morning. There is a main stage for dancing and a chill dome for cooling out, though there is a lot of back and forth and at times there may be more people dancing at the chill dome than the main stage.
The Wave Farmers at Soul Rise near Austin
Into the night the tempo picks up and there are poi spinners and hooping, and other flow arts happening. People spinning with fire are off to the side for safety reasons there are lighted hoops and poi and it’s pretty to see. People are dancing and there are little groups of people sitting and talking with one another. Friday night is generally more subdued than Saturday. But the music never stops.
Saturday morning is quieter with the volume and tempo down. People are having coffee, yerba mate, and so on; cooking up some breakfast; wandering around, seeing friends; just a nice social time. Around noon or so, workshops will be starting (see below).
Art Outside

As the day unfolds into Saturday afternoon, the music tends to be mostly chill – for a relaxing day with old and new friends, taking a nap, taking it easy. I’m walking around, passing out cookies. There is a beginning anticipation of Saturday night.

There are artists set up beside the dance floor (which, by the way, is dirt or sand, usually shaded by trees and maybe a fabric shade). These are visionary artists who will paint or draw or otherwise create art throughout the gathering. Two of the artists you’ll sometimes see at Texas, Colorado, and other regional events are ChopsWanderweird and Chance Roberts.
Art Outside
As the sun goes down, lights begin to come on with some campsites having little sparkly lights and some having art light installations. There is someone else with a bunny suit on and there is someone with nothing on and someone with a tuxedo (no shirt of course) and some kandy kids are starting to come out and as night falls, the music is loud and good and people dancing and outside of the lights the darkness is good and it’s safe and if you need a hand, someone will help you. There are folding camp chairs and blankets (you brought your own, right) at the edge of the dance floor and it’s all a friendly and relaxed scene.
Artists working through the night

Into the night the tempo picks up and more people showing up on the dance floor – ecstatic dancing, being, laughing, swirling, stomping, yeah, this IS psytrance and you may realize that this music which you thought you didn’t much like is entering your self… The music and dancing continues well into Sunday morning, usually tapering off but not all the way off around 8 or 9 and mellowing out through the morning and finally stopping about noon. At least in the U.S., there will be almost no trash left as “leave no trace” is part of the trance/transformational festival ethos.

Workshop at gathering near Austin

Here is something I wrote a couple of years ago: Many of the people are from my tribe and to some extent (from a lot to a little) many seem to have hippie values. It is just so good to be around them. It feels good; it makes me happy. Now I’ve become friends with some of the people here and of course that’s even better. Some wonderful times hanging out, socializing at campsites.

I’ve experienced the transformational potential of the music, the dance, the dancers, the art – of the people who participate in other ways. The magic and the transformational potential is in the whole co-created milieu. A few weeks ago I spent time in a naming ceremony camped at the far edge of a festival. It was a perfect time and place in every way.
CK teaching re the end of life (honoring Adrian McF)

Of course there is ecstatic dancing, beauty, saying true things, euphoria, insight, validation, transformation, integration. I am amazed that I’m doing these things. At this age.

So, I’ve described a weekend of music, good times, and fellowship. How is this a “culture?” For some people it’s pretty much what they do, but for others, these events are an important part of life and liberation. Where else will we experience the freedom of ecstatic dance surrounded by others doing the same? Where else are values of peace, transformation, acceptance, and loving your neighbor so highly valued? Well, actually, these things are valued in other places – religious or spiritual settings, for example. But for me (and who else can I speak for?), there is no place or setting as conducive to growth, as accepting, as ecstatic, as connected as within trance culture.
8 o’clock Sunday morning on the dance floor

Music (from Wikipedia): “Psychedelic trance, psytrance or just psy (derived from the ancient Greek word ψυχή “psyche”, mind; soul; breath; spirit) is an electronic music style characterized by arrangements of synthetic rhythms and complex layered melodies created by high tempo riffs… Psytrance lies at the hardcore, underground end of the diverse trance spectrum.” Think in terms of loud, repetitive, and usually very fast (140-150 bpm) electronic dance music played by DJs. There are what seem to be infinite genres, sub-genres, sub-sub-genres, and so on. You can read about some of the musical details via google.

InertG at Unify in Colorado

Drugs: Some people use drugs and some do not. Psychedelics and cannabis are the primary substances used, though there are also alcohol users. There are Sanctuary spaces for people having difficult experiences with psychedelics.

Sex: Drugs, sex, rock & roll! Not really. There is sensuality, but this isn’t a cruising scene. It’s a lot more about relationships and if sex is an outcome of a relationship, fine, but sex doesn’t seem to be the purpose. But maybe that’s just me, my age, and my relationships LOL. Suffice it say, all my experience in trance events says everyone is safe all the time. Have you ever been in a people pile? That’s where 5 or 8 or 15 or however many people will kind of pile up together just to be close and kind. Sweet. These are not a fraternity parties! Burner culture is apparently more overtly sexual, but I’m just repeating what I’ve heard on that.
Chops and Jeff at New Era Transmissions

Workshops: The workshops are an integral part of transformational gatherings. Throughout the day there are workshops on yoga, edible plants (a walk in the forest), flow arts, permaculture, and related. I’ve led several workshops on psychedelic healing in PTSD and at the end of life. People seem to be hungry to learn and share – to gather knowledge and understanding (tools for life) to take back to everyday life.

From my campsite near Dripping Springs

Spirituality: Some electronic dance music (EDM) events are just about the party, while some have a strong overlay or even foundation of spirituality (at least as I experience them). From the unification of ecstatic dance to the workshops on yoga and flow arts to the ethos of safety and belonging the focus stays on the human potential to be at one with one another and with nature. There is no dogma, no preaching at, no charismatic leader – rather, there are those old messages: You are beautiful, I am beautiful, we are One.

Here is a video on global trance culture, The Bloom Series. I told Leslie that it’s kind of an idealized view and she said that fits well with my view – and she was right.

And here is an earlier 7 Minute Psytrance Documentary. I showed this to Leslie to help her understand what I was doing. I think it played a small part in her being so supportive of my involvement with the psytrance scene – though she never cared much for the music and was a total non-camper.
My list of things to bring for a summer event in Texas
Some venues have water, electricity, cell reception; and some have no water, electric, or reception.
Day pack with flashlight, water, gum, Gatorade, DEET, anti-itch, lighter…
Ice chest(s) with yogurt, coffee, sandwiches, apples, ginger ale, Gatorade, water, protein drink. You need lots of ice in Texas!
Water 2 gal/day minimum for drinking – and you can actually get a fairly decent shower with 2 gallons of water (get wet, clean up, rinse)
Freezer bag food, Tabasco
Cooking pack with super cat stove and fuel
Mug, plate, plastic ware, paper towels
Chair
Tent
Medicine, fiber (all the necessities), batteries
Camera
Hat

Change of clothes
Crocs
Jacket, cap
Umbrella
Sleeping pad [large or small]
Car air pump
Sleeping bag (non-REI) and/or fleece, sheet
Pillows, sheets
Fan (portable) with extra batteries
Spot
Insect repel
Fest box with decos – textiles, hangings, etc.
Mats for ground?
Canopy?
Cookies
Phone and charger

Thank you

I’ve written a lot in recent months about pain and grief. Now I’m writing to say thank you to all the people who have reached out with kindness and understanding to David and me. And I’m writing to express my appreciation for Facebook for being an important means for us to be connected.
I want each one of you to know that every kindness, every memory, every visit, every practical assist, every listening heart, every hug, every prayer, every conversation, everyone who came to the memorial service, every phone call, every card or letter, every gift, every email, every message, every text, every heart, even every FB “like” – every everything – it all counted, it all helped. Thank you.

If I could sing only one song, I’d sing of you.

Two months

May 5, 2015. Today is two months since Leslie passed from this life. It’s been an eternity. It’s been a hard, hard time. There have been some good times within these mourning times too – as I began to transition from a man defined by grief to a man who is grieving.

1969

How momentous it was that I held you as you passed from this earth, this life. Life! I was beside you, embracing you, caressing you, whispering of love and your beauty. How I trembled, knowing what was to come. And then I was calm, I was sorrowful, I was in love. I was strong. I was pure.
At every turn I see how incredibly fortunate, how blessed I’ve been with your presence – your love – in my life all these many years.
And at the end, to hold you and whisper these things!
Yesterday was hard. I ran a lot of errands, including taking the wheelchair back to the medical supply place We were minorly ripped off for $50, but fuck it. I thought of how you became weaker and weaker, going from walking slowly but without assistance to needing a walker to needing a wheelchair… I drove by the house on Robin Road where you grew up, where we first kissed.
I got home around 1pm and thought I would take a nap. I was so emotionally and physically exhausted – I was weary as hell – that I lay down on the floor in the front room (I just couldn’t go any farther) and despite being cold, basically passed out.
When we were living on LaVista

You never believed me when so many times I told you how brave you are. You insisted that having fear meant not brave. I would say, “Hey man, I lived with some of the bravest men on earth. Being brave isn’t fearless; it’s going in despite the fear.”

To have known you through so many seasons of your beautiful life – from 16 to 70.
Today (Thursday) was better. I went to Whole Foods for breakfast – took my time, talked with someone from the gym, read the NYT. I came home and did the first steps in baking walnut bars. I went to Central Market for lunch and came home and finished the walnut bars. In the afternoon I got an email from the lawyer re probating Leslie’s will. I had a physiologic response to it – a wave of something bad.
Later I was thinking; later I cried – hard again – thinking of the momentousness of how it happened. Remembering the anguish of realizing your condition was deteriorating. Remembering the enormous relief seeing Dr. Lichliter coming down the hall…
First trip to Hong Kong

And later that awful night, embracing you. What an extraordinary thing – leaving life as you entered it: loved, adored. Leaving my life as you came into it: in this embrace of love and adoration.

I’m so glad I was able to do it – that I took care of you. It does not matter that you won’t be able to do it for me. It does not matter that you won’t be here to hold me as I pass away because we’ve done it already. It’s all been done. Complete.
—————
Yesterday I said to John that I can’t tell any one person all the everything that’s happening – it would be too much. Then I thought, well, let’s just get it all out there… and so I wrote down all the bad stuff, and I wrote what sustains me, and I wrote what I’m doing to take care of myself (Adrian’s question).
Hard times between Leslie and me in November and December – the hardest days of our marriage (but some extraordinarily good times too)
The physical changes from unassisted to wheelchair-dependent
My great aunt Eloise died. We were not close in recent years, but still.
On Ko Samui (Thailand)

I found my brother dead. I was pretty sure then that he killed himself, but didn’t find out for several months.

John and I going through the huge volume of Tom’s stuff and finding things we’d rather not find – seriously.
Leslie’s condition worsening.
Leslie in ICU.
Leslie passing away – a 54 year love affair.
Working on all the paper, learning to pay bills on-line, dealing with banks, lawyers, people.
Filled with grief and gratitude.
The first month, crying so hard, sobbing, groaning, the pain. Then decreased frequency and intensity of crying, but then some stimulus (like taking the wheelchair back) and the deep crying that leaves me utterly exhausted. And then more stimuli – someone in my Bible study group’s wife died from MS. 20+ years of in sickness. Talk about the Hero’s Journey!
Finally received Tom’s amended death certificate: “toxic effects of fentanyl… overdose of prescription drug.”
Daily dipshit stuff – getting a parking ticket, bill from the m-fing surgeon who failed to manage Leslie’s pain, letters from Tom’s creditors. I’m pretty raw.
Through it all I am sustained by…
Shakespeare Garden in Golden Gate Park, 2014

David – his presence, his help, his steadfastness.

Memories – how you and I loved so fully, without reservation; all our years together; knowing you through so many seasons of your beautiful life; your beauty; your incredible life of service/mercy/how you saw the beauty in others; how I took care of you when you were sick; how brave you were through the physical and cognitive changes; everything.
John – my brother, a good guy, helping in a thousand ways (and I hope I’ve been helpful to you too).
Jeff, who comes with the dust and is gone with the wind – and at the right time
Friends reaching out, being present.
Activities – working in the yard, baking, etc.
Future – I feel like I have one.
Being fairly healthy.

In front of a sex club 

Being actually pretty resilient.
David and Charles – you too, Jake.
Very little guilt or second-guessing.
(A couple of months in) I’m laughing as much as I’m crying.
The kindness of strangers/random people.
What am I doing to take care of myself?
Connecting with David.
Enjoying memories.
Hanging out with John.
Connecting with others, like David O, Ron, Shirin, Charles B, Jim Z, Melvin, Chris, Freda, Lance and Chhorvy, Shane, Jay, Sarah Spirals, Bill McF, Ally Fiesta, men in my Bible study group…
Writing.
Experiencing fully the grief.
Evening bowl.

Monkey girl

Getting out: eating at WF, going to used bookstores, Central Market, talking with people, etc.
San Francisco!
Baking, working in the yard.
Not rushing (through grief, business stuff).
Reflecting on all the years of love and work and travel and just everything that went before. Having some of the photos I have has been huge – Leslie and Baby David, Leslie and David embracing a month before she passed, Leslie in Hue with David and me…
David, Charles, and Jake.
—————–
When we were working with refugees

It is good to be known – to live where people know you – some people already know what happened to Leslie and some do not. I went to place today where Leslie liked to go for lunch (Spec’s) and Katy, a young woman who works there (we would always go through her line) asked, “Where is Mrs. Kemp today?” I told Katy and she literally burst into tears. We talked and hugged and she told me that her great Grandmother and her good old dog had died last week. So Leslie’s passing triggered her grief…

Earlier I noted that the wife of a man in my Bible study group had died from MS. It had been a 20+ year journey. Epic. I went to the memorial service at my old church. I took a few notes…

January 2015

Exactly what I wasn’t looking forward to – people saying, “I’m sorry to hear about your wife…” And I’m wishing I wasn’t there. I sat in the back, to the side and then I saw two people I’m glad to see – Elvis and Joan. Then old Dave Kerr comes to sit beside me and then the first hymn and I realize Susie Grissom (a sweet person) is sitting on my other side. Glad I went to the restroom earlier and got some toilet paper, because the tears are coming down and before the first hymn is over I realize I’m in a good community and I’ll be coming back.
For better, for worse; in sickness and in health…

I was talking with a friend…

I was talking last night with a friend who had a “health event” 3-4 weeks ago that stood him right at the edge of eternity. He told me shortly after the event that he felt very fragile and uncertain. Last night he blew my mind in a very good way when he went on at length about the beautiful support he received from his partner. There was such joy in his voice. To me it was like he had fallen in love all over again and stronger than before – he seemed scarcely able to believe how she had loved him through his uncertainty and fear. I was responding along several tracks: one was that Leslie is gone and from her, I no longer have that beautiful support, at least in a physical, earthly sense – so that was sad. The other track was happiness that my friend knows such deep and affirming love. And it made me happy that he knows me well enough to share these joyful things with me in this time of grief. 

Here is to Love, to Beauty, to Hope, to our Beautiful Fragility. 

On a train in Burma. The man in the blue shirt had malaria;
the woman is taking care of him, her arm around him. 2007



———

I was reading back through some older journal entries. I took these words from something I wrote on our last trip through Bangkok and Chiang Mai a year and a half ago:  

You call it liver-but I call it karma (link) 
As I said in an earlier post, we seem to be mostly repeating ourselves on this trip, going where we’ve been before, eating tried and true things… Oceans of memories memories memories memories….oceans… of memories… together.
These are the days.
Bangkok: at this point in the trip everything is a big effort. Basically we’re just being in BK, eating fabulous food, having “happy hour” every evening on the porch of the hotel… 50 years on…

Here is a really pretty song – You… wait here in my arms as I shake. Yeah, I know about waiting as I shake, as I tremble. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPJLu_wcTKc

If you must wait,
Wait for them here in my arms as I shake
If you must weep,
Do it right here in my bed as I sleep
If you must mourn, my love
Mourn with the moon and the stars up above
If you must mourn,
Don’t do it alone

If you must leave,
Leave as though fire burns under your feet
If you must speak,
Speak every word as though it were unique
If you must die, sweetheart
Die knowing your life was my life’s best part
And if you must die,
Remember your life

You are
You are
Oh, you are
You are
Oh

If you must fight,
Fight with yourself and your thoughts in the night
If you must work,
Work to leave some part of you on this earth
If you must live, darling one,

Just live
Just live
Just live

Mourning

Notes made before going to sleep, March-April 2015

Leslie about age 45

Saturday, April 11, 2015. Awhile back I wrote that one way to look at my invitations to read this journal or blog would be as gestures of intimacy. This entry is the most intimate of gestures, of invitations. Parts of this are raw, because I was raw when I wrote those parts. Everything is in the order it was written, so there isn’t necessarily a progression through time or topic.


I’m finishing this entry at an ambient psytrance event in an old church in Oakland. Incredible.

All the photos are here
________________
I said to Jeff, “I don’t mean to put Leslie on a pedestal… who am I trying to kid; she’s been on a pedestal (where she belongs) for 50 years.”

David: you have done/are doing exactly what you said you would do. Thank you.

I’m so sad, but somehow, at the moment, I’m not unhappy. Just think how many glory days we had.
________________
Shortly after she died, several nurses and I were taking care of Leslie in her ICU bed and I said to them, “She had an insanely beautiful body.”
________________
(SF, January) We had made love the night before and in the morning I said, “You know, that felt like the first time.” You said,“Yes, but better.” Oh, how I was looking forward to making love with you again.

About age 20

________________
I felt good about my physical strength in helping Leslie in/out of the bathroom, up and down the steps, etc.

I took good care of my wife. Several times in her last weeks, I said, “Have you noticed that no matter how many hours I work, it’s always with a glad heart and face. Beautiful Leslie, it’s easy. I adore you.” We were irritated with one another about two times in the last month, but not about what I was doing/the caregiving. “It’s easy. I adore you.”

I realized that Leslie surrendered to my caregiving and taking care of everything. Jeff pointed out that I also surrendered – to this new and ever-changing reality.
In Santa Fe about 1972


Leslie escaped! She and I were both headed for a long, hard time. I worked in healthcare most of my life. I know what the score is. So did Leslie. She was on the bus to the penitentiary and she escaped!!!

She was never going to leave my care. She was never going to the rehab place where her mother went. I was working out the logistics and details of caregiving. I know what’s involved. Going in, eyes wide open, heart wide open.

She knew she was changing in a bad direction – physically and mentally. She’s never liked to talk about such things and I certainly didn’t push it.
________________
I read what follows to Leslie (the first words in an entry I won’t be posting, titled “This much sadness is too much sorrow”):

One very serious thing. I am well aware that you’re in a struggle against supervision and similar issues. I can relate – as a big-time, long-time recipient of supervision myself ;-). But I want you to know with utmost clarity that if I ever need real supervision because I’m unable to take care of myself or whatever (like when I was in the hospital), that I trust you completely to do the right thing – to know what I want and need and act on it. And I vow to do the same for you.

In Burma about 1980

I read that to Leslie. She just listened and nodded. She never did like to talk about dying. I knew clearly what she wanted re life and the end of life. This was a perfect dying for Leslie Sue Kemp.

________________
Dying is often not easy. These were hard times for her. She underwent profound changes starting at almost exactly 6pm that last (Thursday) night. She went to surgery about 1:30am Friday morning and she passed away back in her room surrounded by pure love about 4:30am. (I’m actually not clear on times, and maybe even days.) I was with her, embracing her, whispering words of love, of remembrance, people she loved, people who loved her, the Song of Ruth…

________________
We had a sexual renaissance – kind of a global flowering in our interactions and attitudes. Part of it was being in SF, but the greater part was something else – we don’t know what. But we were thrilled. And all this in the context of back pain and disability. Awkward sex, great sex. The best we ever had. I was really looking forward to sex with Leslie again. Once, after surgery, when she was having a pretty good day, she brought up having sex. I’m like, “Oh, let’s just lie here together…”
________________
I’m certain now that the greatest part of our bad times in November and December was related to the fact that she did have unfinished business with me and so she finished it. I had wounded her many years ago and she had some things to say and do in relation to that. It was very painful for both of us.

Waiting for a bus outside Khao-I-Dang refugee camp 1982


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In recent years, we would always lie in bed talking before sleep – sometimes late. In her last months she talked far more than ever about her childhood and teen years. I loved hearing these things about her Mom and Dad and sisters and friends and so on. About her connections to them.
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During the worst times, David said, “Dad, that isn’t Mom.” He said several times that I had to adapt. And I did. As I adapted, so did Leslie.

For better and worse. In sickness and in health.

Wherever you go, I will go.
Leslie and David


David said that the situation wasn’t sustainable. I could see that, but maybe it would be sustainable if we didn’t worry too much about sustaining me. I was ready to sacrifice my life to her care. If you think about it, what else could I do? What else would I want to do? Wherever you go, I will go. I’ve had some tests and experiences in life and I felt ready for this one.

Leslie trusted me when the chips were down. She knew I would take good care of her.

In her last weeks Leslie had almost no appetite. I would fix tiny plates with 2-4 small bites.
Outside of Hue, 2010


In retrospect I realize the constipation secondary to opioids, hyponatremia, decreased activity, decreased fluid intake, etc. was basically untreatable. When she started taking opioids I asked her every day if she was constipated. She was irritated every time. As time passed I stopped asking…
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Leslie had beautiful hands. I loved kissing and touching her hands. Of course later they weren’t so beautiful, but I never stopped stroking and kissing her hands. Her hands, her hair, her body, everything changed with the passage of time. I never stopped seeing how beautiful she is. I never stopped saying it and she knew it was true.

I think she just ignored stuff she didn’t like. “Forget, forget.”
With David in Hue, 2010


In Leslie’s last month I would read to her when we were in bed – first from my blog (the traveling parts), and when that became too difficult for her to track, I would read from Little Golden Books and similar books I had stored in David’s closet. I just realized that everything I read was related to going home, finding a safe place, and the like. Little Golden Books I read to my sweet Leslie included:
Melanie Mouse’s Moving Day
The Fuzzy Duckling
The Shy Little Kitten
The Pokey Little Puppy
Home for a Bunny
Once when I was in his closet looking for another book to read to Leslie I saw a book titled, These Happy Golden Years. I burst into tears.
________________
I say to myself, “I’m really alone.” Then David calls and I’m not alone. My beloved wife.

Of course things keep happening like Julio getting into Jesuit – a kind of wave goodbye from all the beautiful work Leslie did.
________________
People have reached out to me every day this (first) week. Among them:
David Kemp
John Kemp
Jeff
THE perfect photo of Leslie. With David in Hue, 2010

Aletha

Shirin
Chris
David O
Nora
Kay
Ron
Jim C
Roxanne
Mary Ann
Janet Z
Lance and Chhorvy
Men in my Bible study group
Charles B
Jun (and Jessica)

Here I am with David and the support is deeper and I hope there is some mutuality in supporting one another.

Anyway, except for David and Charles, I’ll be alone a lot. I have things listed out to help me stay focused, e.g., gym, registering for Kaiser in SF, the Apothecarium veterans group, and other things.
Maybe this trip to SF will be a time to mourn, a time for integration.
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When I’m here alone I talk to your photos – I smile at your beauty – I cry for you and for me and for David. Yeah, how bittersweet this is. How sad.

At Butt Fast Foods in the back of the Chung King Mansions, Hong Kong


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Wednesday – the day of the memorial service… It still seems unreal, but real. Sad, but with these strong feelings of gratitude and awe.

The gratitude is for your life, that I was part of it, that I knew who and what you are, that you love me, that I love you, that our love grew and grew. I never tired of you and being with you. That you gave so much of yourself to me, that you taught me how to be a good parent and a good man, that you saved my life (mentally and physically). You redeemed me.

The awe… you really did do everything I and others talk about you doing. You really did save all those lives, build all those families, bring hope to the hopeless, change the irreversible trajectory of so many people’s lives, teach me, teach David, Nora, others.

I adore you.
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We had the memorial service for my beautiful Leslie. It went well. Part of what was on the program/the order of honoring is here. The music and slides were perfect. I chose three songs and David chose two. They were Ripple, Brokedown Palace, Attics of My Life (all by the Grateful Dead) and Downpour (Brandi Carlile) and A Love That Will Never Grow Old (Emmylou Harris). The setting (Wildwood Chapel) was perfect. Many people were there.
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Integrity vs. despair: the final psychosocial/spiritual stage of life. LOL, Leslie came down firmly in integrity. Now it’s my turn.
Leslie at a Memorial service for a person named Feather, San Francisco, 2014


She gave me Christmas! In my early years Christmas was a bad time – hopes smashed again and again in the shards of my father’s rage. Later, when it was just my Mom and brothers and Aunt Dinah it was better – good. But somehow those early years colored everything. Paint it black. Afraid to hope. Then Leslie. She gave me Christmas – magic, happiness – dreams come true. Once, early on she gave me the big box of crayons, the one I’d never had when I was a child.

I want to talk with you. I want you to know how I’m doing and what’s happening besides all the sorrow. I want you to know all the things I’m doing like you would like.

Alison at CM: “…how you looked at each other.”

Earlier today I passed the little side street where a few days before the surgery we stopped in the evening to make out. I told Leslie’s friend about this and she said, “Oh, that’s cute.” I said, “Not cute. Really sexy.”

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From David, for memorial service program:


Dear Mom,

I cannot begin to describe the sadness and emptiness that your passing has left in my heart. Yet at the same time, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for every moment of every day that we had together.

Even before I took my first breath, you and Dad chose me. You chose me to be your son. And from the very beginning, we were a family.

For David and Charles’ wedding

I have never had even a shred of doubt that you loved me as much as one person can love another. You told me every day, but more than that, you showed me every day. Whether you were driving me to school or quizzing me on my vocabulary words; applauding after my orchestra performance or cheering during a fencing tournament; supporting me throughout my coming out or consoling me through a challenging time; riding the bus with me in Cambodia or sitting in the back seat of a limo in San Francisco; ordering dim sum or planning my wedding—ours was “a love that will never grow old.”

You have always believed in me, believed that I could be anything, do anything. And knowing you believed in me was all the strength I needed. You were my biggest fan, my most faithful ally, my best friend.

I promised you that I would always love you, that I would always take care of you. I hope you feel that I have lived up to that promise. And I promise to do the same for Dad. Our happy little family, forever. (And it’s going to get a little bigger later this year).

Thank you. I love you.

_____________
From me, for memorial service program:

Goodbye beautiful Leslie. Now I know what people really mean when they say, “She will live in my heart forever.” It’s reality. Here you are. I’ve loved you all my life. You are the best thing that ever happened in my life.

When I had no wings to fly, you flew to me…

San Francisco

You taught me everything I know about being a good parent and I have never stopped being grateful for this gift. I remember how you used to worry and sometimes cried about what if David grew up and grew apart from us. Leslie, what joy in recent years when you understood how much he loves you. He gave you an entire city! Welcome to San Francisco Leslie! Our happy little family.


From my journal: I was lying beside Leslie one night, thinking that I know just a handful of people who have been as merciful with so many people for as long a time with as much competence and complete selflessness as Leslie. She gave it away like it was water. She was the embodiment of mercy and justice.


All that and our life together, making love with Leslie!!!

I’ve been with you in refugee camps, spending countless hours on some mean streets and alleys and in too many seriously run-down slum apartments; I’ve seen you comfort women who’ve been raped, people in pain, people who are dying, people past the edge of grief, pain, madness; I’ve watched you work miracles—going up against The Machine and winning, time and time again (Xena!); I’ve been with you on buses rattling all across Asia, on trains into the Vietnam mountains, on boats in the Gulf of Siam, in donkey carts in Burma, on Royal Nepal Airlines with the cockpit door swinging back and forth; we’ve slept together in a little grass shack on the Gulf of Siam, in Burmese guesthouse rooms with walls that went up ~6 feet and then chicken wire, in a tiny low-ceiling room in Nepal sleeping on a straw mattress with a giant wool blanket and a wooden latch on the door, in a room on the Thai-Cambodian border with artillery hitting a mile away – maybe closer, in rooms smaller than prison cells, in a brothel, in a little shack in Oklahoma with tornadoes roaring all around, in a really old hotel in a mostly deserted town in Nevada where we lived for a few months, in our happy home in Dallas… We’ve had some times!

In a refugee apartment

We are fulfilled. Nothing is undone between us. We have loved and been loved, lived our beliefs, had a happy home, had a beautiful son, had a grand partnership with one another, had many adventures, and so much more—really, it’s been amazing!  


I love you sweet Leslie. 
_____________
From San Francisco

Kay sent me this message on FB:

I woke up today thinking about Leslie’s beautiful memorial service. It seems trite to say that she would have loved it, but it was a perfect remembrance of her life and work — not one wasted moment or superfluous word. David’s story about “Panama” was lovely. I hope you’re in SF now, making the rounds of her favorite places, feeling her spirit with you. My memories of Leslie: her smile (see David’s version of it), her shock of white hair, her (entirely appropriate) sense of righteous indignation, and the phone. She used the telephone as her cudgel, hammering away at institutional resistance and never, never hanging up until she had reasonable assurance that a patient would be seen. Your teenage heart chose the right woman and the rest of us are fortunate to have known her. What a great gal! Be kind to yourself in the coming months as you work through this difficult time. Consider every hug a little gift from her — or, at least, a little package of her good karma coming back to you.

Leslie in her natural habitat

I answered…


Thank you Kay. Now I know why I clicked FB today. I’ll copy this and send to David. Coincidentally, I transcribed this from yesterday’s NYT in an article about a woman who helps other women escape bad arranged marriages (quote from a woman who was helped to escape and more): “I cannot even describe what it’s like to have an angel sweep down and kiss you on the forehead and then hold your hand and tell you, ‘I’m not letting go until you’re okay.’” That was Leslie, a bright, sparkling star in so so many nights
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Email to David: What I was saying re Dr. Lichliter saving Mom from a code sends a chill through me and makes my heart speed up every time I think of it. That was as close a call as it gets. Like living through an ambush.
Christmas 2014, all these years in love


She not only escaped, she dodged a close-range bullet (of a hell of a lot of trauma and suffering).

I didn’t really cry all day yesterday and again today until I wrote the above. Then I cried hard and for what seems a long time.
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I took some photos of Leslie about 8 hours before she passed from this earth… her state of mind is shown as good. It gives me joy to see all these pictures.
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Of all the people in the whole wide world to walk down the hall, nobody could have been better than Warren Lichliter.
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I’m glad I told you 1000s of times how much fun you are. In my life, the thrill is gone, that’s for sure.

I’m a lot less now than when I was with you.

A year and a half ago we were walking along a street in Saigon late one afternoon and Leslie said something like, “Look, a beer only costs 10,000 dong here. Let’s go in.” We did and from that day onward, we had “happy hour” together every evening.
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Now this.


In San Francisco. AIDS Quilt in background
My beautiful Leslie died about 4am last Friday, March, 6, 2015. I am filled with sorrow and with gratitude for her life, our life, our little family’s life together for so many happy golden years.

We fell in love when we were 16 literally at first sight outside the cafeteria at Thomas Jefferson High School. My home life was not good and Leslie’s parents, especially her mother, were always kind to me. I would come over to her house late at night and toss coins at her window to wake her and she would slip out of her room and let me in. We would cuddle up in the den (the farthest room from her parent’s room) and talk and make out for endless hours. Nights of innocence.

Leslie went to college and I went to the Marine Corps (one of many clues about who’s the smart one). When I came home from Vietnam in the fall of 1967, a little worse for wear, she was in a relationship with someone else, but that soon came to an end and we’ve been together ever since. We were married October 18, 1969.

Our son, David, was born and adopted June 16, 1985. What joy he brought and still brings to us. Leslie adores him.

When Leslie died there was no unfinished business between us, nothing unsaid, no apologies, no reconciliations. We were all complete and fulfilled. From an email to David:

Around Christmas 2014, Leslie and David. Love.

I’m glad you see my question/your answer that way. That is exactly how I see it and how Mom saw it as well. Truly, you and Mom were completely up-to-date. Nothing undone, nothing unsaid. It is all complete and fulfilled. She knew how much you loved her and she loved you with all the unconditional extravagance of her mother’s heart. She more than accepted you; she embraced everything you are. David, you gave her these past few months in San Francisco – it’s all you. All the kindnesses and beauty she received in this time is all thanks to you. 

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I was looking at photos of you this morning (3 weeks in) and crying quietly. My beloved wife.
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Easter marked one month since Leslie passed away. David and Charles and a friend of theirs and I went to church at Grace Cathedral. It was a good place to mark the passing of time. On Good Friday I went to the AIDS Memorial Grove (sacred space) to reflect. It’s past a month now. I think it’s been a week since I’ve cried hard – since the deep sobbing that leaves me empty and exhausted and better off. I cry every day of course, but quietly, and usually only about twice. I’m no longer thinking of Leslie every moment of every day.

In our San Francisco apartment

I think in another month or so I’ll cease to be defined by mourning. But it feels like I’ll never stop mourning on some level and I’ll never stop loving you.

You’re the only love my life has known

My beloved wife,


This is the 3rdtime I’ve sent this song to you. I’ve sent it in happiness and in sorrow. It’s a love song, after all. You can listen along by clicking here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3j4cu-MuLgcc

And here I am again, saying…

There were trains, and we out-run ’em;
There were songs, and we out-sung ’em;
There were brighter days, never ending;
There was time, and we were burnin’;
There were rhymes, and we were learnin’ –
There was all the love two hearts could hold.

And after all this time, you’re always on my mind;
Hey I could never let it end, ’cause my heart takes so long to mend;
The dream that keeps your hopes alive;
The lonely nights you hold inside;
And after all this time, you’re always on my mind – I still want you

There was rain, that we outlasted;

There was pain, but we got past it;
There were last goodbyes, still left unspoken;
There were ways I should have thrilled you;
There were days I could have killed you –
You’re the only love my life has known.

And after all this time, you’re always on my mind;

Hey I could never let you go, a broken heart that heals so slow, could never beat for someone new, while you’re alive and I am too;
And after all this time, you’re always on my mind – I still love you.

And I could never let it in, ’cause my heart takes so long to mend;
The dream that keeps your hopes alive, the lonely nights you hold inside;
And after all this time, you’re always on my mind – I still want you;
Hey after all this time, you’re always on my mind – I still love you.

~~~~~~~~~~~


I love you. I will never forsake you. 


Look at these photos. You look different from the first one (taken ~50 years ago) to the last one, but my God Leslie! You are as beautiful in these last photos as you were in the first one!!! 

San Francisco – our street

Pocket park next block down

A few years ago I got on a train to I didn’t know where in San Francisco. When I got off at I still didn’t know where I started walking with a man I met at the train stop along an amazing street with wide sidewalks, trees, planters, a few pocket parks, and the usual array of 100+ year old Victorian houses and apartments. I was thinking that without a doubt this is one of the coolest streets I’d been on outside of just about every street in Berkeley. Now Leslie and I are sharing an apartment on that very street.

Looking out our window at a
neat little campsite

Sitting in the bay window about eight feet above the sidewalk, watching all the pretty people walking by… young people, old people, young lovers, old lovers, moms and dads, dads and dads, babies, toddlers, big kids, happy people, sad people, people in kilts (I think the guys who wear kilts are into domination), people in glitter, feathers, leather, tattoos, orange blue green purple mohawks, here come old flat-top he come groovin’ up slowly… San Francisco. A homeless man sets up every night outside our window. Very neat, leaves by 8am, never leaves a trace.
David in our apartment

Our place is in the Duboce Triangle, which is more or less part of the Castro. Perfect. We’re three blocks from David and Charles’ house; ½ block from the 37 bus to the Haight, Twin Peaks, Market; ½ block to the N Line (train) to Cole Valley, Ocean Beach, SF State, downtown; 1½ blocks to Duboce Park Café (tables on sidewalk, big open window, dogs, babies); less than 2 blocks to a man named Guy selling flowers on a shady corner four days a week. 
Ceremony for man named Feather who was murdered about
3 blocks from our apartment – Leslie in blue shirt
Street party on David’s street 3 blocks from us

We’re a short walk to Thorough Breads (a very good bakery/coffee shop), Safeway, Whole Foods, Aardvark Used Books, the Apothecarium dispensary, Castro Farmers Market (Wednesday afternoons), Peets Coffee, Illy Coffee, Blue Bottle Coffee (What no Starbucks? No prob.), Anna at New Rosenberg’s Market, Castro Street, Warner Plaza (if you want to see a few older naked guys); ten minute walk to library; three blocks from (Lower) Haight; catch the 22 to The Mission; 24 to Noe Valley (sign on Noe Valley store – “Mention babies or puppies for 10% discount”); 37 to Haight and Twin Peaks; someone named Happymonk posting poems on utility poles; I mean it just goes on and on and on.