Nick, Carolyn, Eve, Sky (June 2004)
Friday, September 28, 2007
Rev. Hillary Wright's Words for Sky's Memorial, September 22, 2007
Here is a transcript of Rev. Wright's words for Sky's memorial. Thank you again, Hillary. It was a beautiful service.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
From Sky's Aunt, Carol Zbuska
Sky's Aunt Carol, who loved him dearly, was unable to attend the memorial. She sent us this statement, which was read by a family member at the memorial:
--------------------------------------------
To all who knew and loved Sky:
Sky has touched my life in so many beautiful ways: his laughter, his compassion for others, and his love for all creatures, both great and small.
On several occasions, Sky flew out to the east coast. We often visited the Jersey Shore and Island Beach State Park. Sky was impressed by the many miles of untouched earth – a safe haven for so many animal species.
I will always keep close to my heart…
Sky, Crystal, his family, and all his friends, who loved him deeply…
(Time takes all but memories.)
With much love,
Carol Zbuska
--------------------------------------------
To all who knew and loved Sky:
Sky has touched my life in so many beautiful ways: his laughter, his compassion for others, and his love for all creatures, both great and small.
On several occasions, Sky flew out to the east coast. We often visited the Jersey Shore and Island Beach State Park. Sky was impressed by the many miles of untouched earth – a safe haven for so many animal species.
I will always keep close to my heart…
Sky, Crystal, his family, and all his friends, who loved him deeply…
(Time takes all but memories.)
With much love,
Carol Zbuska
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Little Reminders to Enjoy Life (spoken at Sky's Memorial Service in Topanga on 7-22-07)
I’m a writer and words usually flow easily. But I had a difficult time writing this, as you can imagine. When I finally got something down on paper, it was trite, so rehearsed sounding—and I could just imagine my baby brother Sky kicking me under the table reminding me to be real.
In fact, one of the biggest gifts Sky gave me and my family was the gift of his spontaneity and constant, yet sweet, reminders to be less uptight. I can hear him now with his familiar refrain of “Oh, Carolyn.” He’d say it whenever I was being too conventional, too concerned, too programmed. Sky and my brother Nick even went so far as to script out loud a madcap sitcom starring four siblings. And whenever sister Carolyn got too school-marmish, the other three siblings would chorus, “Oh, Carolyn.”
Sky’s gift of the unconventional and spontaneous shined in his role as the beloved Uncle Sky, a side of him many of you probably didn’t know about. He could play with the kids for hours, slyly encouraging all sorts of bad and crazy behavior. (And I’m sure Crystal will never forget that hysterical car ride to the Los Angeles Museum of Natural History back in April.)
There was the pirate birthday party we had for my son Oliver who was turning 5—Sky was maybe in his second year at Berkeley. Sky and I went to a costume shop a few days beforehand and rented an awesome pirate getup. I had—in my conventional manner—envisioned a dapper kind of pirate captain. But Sky had his heart set on being a scurvy pirate, so . . . It’s the day of the party and we’ve got hoards of little boys running around the house wearing eye patches—and then Sky bursts in yelling in a fearsome voice, “Who stole my treasure?” Several kids screamed and ran for cover, others cowered and in shaky voices told Sky that they had nothing to do with it. All were frightened—except for Oliver who kept circling around this pirate, with this look on his face that said, “Dude, I know you but I’m not sure how.” Sky did such a great job in character that even his nephew couldn’t figure it out. Scaring kids at a party isn’t too PC, in Berkeley of all places—but it was Sky. And it was hilarious.
Sky was the uncle who bravely came to his nephew’s school for Grandparents and Special Friends Day four years ago, and cheerily and good-naturedly participated in all the day’s activities, side by side with all the old grandmas and grandpas. But he found his place, hooking up with an old Berkeley couple, and together they wrote a little ditty about world peace and sang it in front of the class.
Sky was the uncle who could come up with just the right gift—even if it tweaked this staid sister a bit. A first subscription to Rolling Stone magazine for the preteen Oliver, along with some Axe roll-on deodorant for good measure. I can recall the conversation now: “Sky, come on, Axe? Have you seen the disgusting sexist commercials for that product? How could you get that for my kid?” “Oh, Carolyn.”
And then there was the holiday gift that keeps on giving to my rambunctious younger son, Henry. Sometime in December a couple of years back we started to receive these large-format construction industry trade magazines—one was called Equipment Today—all addressed to Henry Smith, president Oakland demolition services. It didn’t take long to figure out who signed Henry up to receive the premier free rag for the heavy equipment industry. Credit card offers then followed, much to Henry’s delight for stashing in his wallet. Sky might have been short on cash that year, but he found a million-dollar way to perfectly seize on his nephew Henry’s penchant for big trucks and construction and, well, just breaking things.
And then there were the endless sword fights between Sky and his nephews, careening through the house and out into the night on the sidewalk. Oh my god, those got out of hand—just crazy and like everything you could want as a kid. And then Uncle Sky showing up on the doorstep on Christmas morning and being the only adult with enough energy (and compassion) left to help put together a new and complicated Lego set.
My baby brother Sky was just an amazing combination of childlike fun and sweetness and spontaneity. And when I find myself inclined to be conventional or uptight as the days and years go by, I hope I’ll continue to hear Sky’s voice saying, “Oh, Carolyn,” spurring me and my family on to enjoy life and have fun. I miss him so much.
In fact, one of the biggest gifts Sky gave me and my family was the gift of his spontaneity and constant, yet sweet, reminders to be less uptight. I can hear him now with his familiar refrain of “Oh, Carolyn.” He’d say it whenever I was being too conventional, too concerned, too programmed. Sky and my brother Nick even went so far as to script out loud a madcap sitcom starring four siblings. And whenever sister Carolyn got too school-marmish, the other three siblings would chorus, “Oh, Carolyn.”
Sky’s gift of the unconventional and spontaneous shined in his role as the beloved Uncle Sky, a side of him many of you probably didn’t know about. He could play with the kids for hours, slyly encouraging all sorts of bad and crazy behavior. (And I’m sure Crystal will never forget that hysterical car ride to the Los Angeles Museum of Natural History back in April.)
There was the pirate birthday party we had for my son Oliver who was turning 5—Sky was maybe in his second year at Berkeley. Sky and I went to a costume shop a few days beforehand and rented an awesome pirate getup. I had—in my conventional manner—envisioned a dapper kind of pirate captain. But Sky had his heart set on being a scurvy pirate, so . . . It’s the day of the party and we’ve got hoards of little boys running around the house wearing eye patches—and then Sky bursts in yelling in a fearsome voice, “Who stole my treasure?” Several kids screamed and ran for cover, others cowered and in shaky voices told Sky that they had nothing to do with it. All were frightened—except for Oliver who kept circling around this pirate, with this look on his face that said, “Dude, I know you but I’m not sure how.” Sky did such a great job in character that even his nephew couldn’t figure it out. Scaring kids at a party isn’t too PC, in Berkeley of all places—but it was Sky. And it was hilarious.
Sky was the uncle who bravely came to his nephew’s school for Grandparents and Special Friends Day four years ago, and cheerily and good-naturedly participated in all the day’s activities, side by side with all the old grandmas and grandpas. But he found his place, hooking up with an old Berkeley couple, and together they wrote a little ditty about world peace and sang it in front of the class.
Sky was the uncle who could come up with just the right gift—even if it tweaked this staid sister a bit. A first subscription to Rolling Stone magazine for the preteen Oliver, along with some Axe roll-on deodorant for good measure. I can recall the conversation now: “Sky, come on, Axe? Have you seen the disgusting sexist commercials for that product? How could you get that for my kid?” “Oh, Carolyn.”
And then there was the holiday gift that keeps on giving to my rambunctious younger son, Henry. Sometime in December a couple of years back we started to receive these large-format construction industry trade magazines—one was called Equipment Today—all addressed to Henry Smith, president Oakland demolition services. It didn’t take long to figure out who signed Henry up to receive the premier free rag for the heavy equipment industry. Credit card offers then followed, much to Henry’s delight for stashing in his wallet. Sky might have been short on cash that year, but he found a million-dollar way to perfectly seize on his nephew Henry’s penchant for big trucks and construction and, well, just breaking things.
And then there were the endless sword fights between Sky and his nephews, careening through the house and out into the night on the sidewalk. Oh my god, those got out of hand—just crazy and like everything you could want as a kid. And then Uncle Sky showing up on the doorstep on Christmas morning and being the only adult with enough energy (and compassion) left to help put together a new and complicated Lego set.
My baby brother Sky was just an amazing combination of childlike fun and sweetness and spontaneity. And when I find myself inclined to be conventional or uptight as the days and years go by, I hope I’ll continue to hear Sky’s voice saying, “Oh, Carolyn,” spurring me and my family on to enjoy life and have fun. I miss him so much.
My brother, my friend (spoken at Sky's Memorial Service - September 22, 2007)
Sky was my baby brother, and my friend.
I will always remember him as a kind and gentle person, with a deep and unrelenting complexity. He left me with a fuller appreciation of the little things in life, and in our world.
He had a wry humor, ready to unleash it when I least expected it. He usually directed it at me when i needed it most; to calm a runaway ego, to teach a searing lesson, or just to poke at an exposed flank. I will really miss the banter back and forth, and the challenge of who will be left with the last, satisfying jab.
There are a few visions of him that are seared in my brain forever, and that I think reflect who he was to me:
- The little strawberry-blonde baby, leaping over and over again with unbridled glee in his jumper, in the middle of the living room, as I ticked his feet each time he got airborne.
- The elementary school kid, who came home one day a bit traumatized because he had tearfully and physically defended a single cockroach on the playground from the feet of the kids who wanted to crush it.
- The long-haired teenager, replete with Led Zeppelin t-shirt and not-so-mysteriously red eyeballs.
- The never-give-up young man, underneath my house with me all Christmas week, pulling electrical cable through slimy conduit to bring more power to the far side of my house. Together laughing, as we worked in filth, dust, and cold for days, listening to the Christmas rumblings happening above our heads.
- The glimpse of the simply happy man, seeing the way he looked adoringly at his girlfriend Crystal during one Thanksgiving.
...I could go on and on with these flashes of memories.
He was my friend, he was my brother, he was my kid's uncle...and in each of these roles, he was the best I could ever hope for. I will miss him with a heavy heart for the rest of my life, always wondering what he would be like as he got older and even more wise...and confused how my little laughing jumping baby brother is not just a phone call or email away.
Sky leaves all of us with a few gifts; to love the earth, to never betray your beliefs, and to be brave. So we will be brave and celebrate him, celebrate the lessons he taught us, celebrate our memories of him. This way, he'll live on in our hearts, and pop up in our daily lives in unexpected and wonderful ways. He asked that we remember him when we see something beautiful...in a flower, a sunset, a full moon. For me, this is where he will live on, in a quiet melding of loving memories and beautiful imagery.
I will love and miss you forever, bro.
Nick
I will always remember him as a kind and gentle person, with a deep and unrelenting complexity. He left me with a fuller appreciation of the little things in life, and in our world.
He had a wry humor, ready to unleash it when I least expected it. He usually directed it at me when i needed it most; to calm a runaway ego, to teach a searing lesson, or just to poke at an exposed flank. I will really miss the banter back and forth, and the challenge of who will be left with the last, satisfying jab.
There are a few visions of him that are seared in my brain forever, and that I think reflect who he was to me:
- The little strawberry-blonde baby, leaping over and over again with unbridled glee in his jumper, in the middle of the living room, as I ticked his feet each time he got airborne.
- The elementary school kid, who came home one day a bit traumatized because he had tearfully and physically defended a single cockroach on the playground from the feet of the kids who wanted to crush it.
- The long-haired teenager, replete with Led Zeppelin t-shirt and not-so-mysteriously red eyeballs.
- The never-give-up young man, underneath my house with me all Christmas week, pulling electrical cable through slimy conduit to bring more power to the far side of my house. Together laughing, as we worked in filth, dust, and cold for days, listening to the Christmas rumblings happening above our heads.
- The glimpse of the simply happy man, seeing the way he looked adoringly at his girlfriend Crystal during one Thanksgiving.
...I could go on and on with these flashes of memories.
He was my friend, he was my brother, he was my kid's uncle...and in each of these roles, he was the best I could ever hope for. I will miss him with a heavy heart for the rest of my life, always wondering what he would be like as he got older and even more wise...and confused how my little laughing jumping baby brother is not just a phone call or email away.
Sky leaves all of us with a few gifts; to love the earth, to never betray your beliefs, and to be brave. So we will be brave and celebrate him, celebrate the lessons he taught us, celebrate our memories of him. This way, he'll live on in our hearts, and pop up in our daily lives in unexpected and wonderful ways. He asked that we remember him when we see something beautiful...in a flower, a sunset, a full moon. For me, this is where he will live on, in a quiet melding of loving memories and beautiful imagery.
I will love and miss you forever, bro.
Nick
Monday, September 24, 2007
Spoken at Sky's Memorial Service - September 22, 2007
As I was walking home from dinner on August 18th, I found a puppy wandering down the street. Only when she wandered into traffic and was nearly hit by a car did I realize that she was a stray. I hesitated for a moment – what responsibility was this dog of mine? – but the knowledge that Sky would kick my ass if he ever found out otherwise prompted me to fetch the dog and bring her home with me. In the days that followed, it even crossed my mind that, if I couldn’t find her owner, I might drive her across the country and give her to Sky. I bring this story up because – right now – it’s a large part of what I have of Sky. In the days and weeks since Sky took his life, people have often sought to share common memories of him with me. ‘Do you remember when…’ they say. And the answer is always ‘no,’ whether I’ve said so or not. No, I don’t remember.
There’s the story of how we first met; that I remember, as at this point it’s mostly just a story. With great serendipity, Sky was assigned to show me around Crossroads on my first day of eighth grade. Me, I was too cool for school; here was this scrawny kid whose earnestness and emotional honesty was just too much for middle-school me. I squatted by a tree in the alley, observing the rest of our classmates from afar, while Sky stood next to me, trying to engage me in conversation. Eventually he asked what I liked to do for fun. I said off-handedly that I played a lot of D&D – had to use the acronym, you understand, to keep out the uninitiated – to which he responded, ‘Really? I play Dungeons & Dragons!’
‘Aw, fuck, am I going to get stuck with the nerds again?’ I thought to myself. Not fifteen minutes later, Sky introduced me to Dan, and much of the succeeding fifteen years fell into place.
Now, besides that story, I find myself drawing a blank. I mean, I know that we lived together in college, I know I got him his first non-academic job after graduation… but concrete recollections are nowhere to be found.
At best I can remember certain gestures, smells. Anybody who spent time in close proximity to Sky knew he had a certain musk. Good, bad – it was Sky. Or the distinctive awkwardness with which he moved his arms. One of the photos from a recent Christmas shows him flipping off the camera. Understanding a photograph to not be an indivisible moment of time, but to actually record some minute duration, I can see recorded there enough time to identify that idiosyncratic motion of his. Or, lastly, I can summon up the way he would lie across his bed reading homework, gently rubbing Fuzzes – an orange shred of fabric which formerly served as a babyblanket – across his mouth and chin.
But the rest, the rest is gone. I’ve asked myself ‘why can’t I remember’, but the answer is clear: I won’t let myself remember. I can’t let myself remember. To remember him would be to acknowledge his absence. Without memory, there is nothing to miss. And right now, it would be too much. I mean, how do you go back to work when someone who has been so much to you is no longer here? How do you do your laundry or go on a date? I mean, each time I’ve done something since the 26th of August, it’s like, ‘Oh, this is the first time I’ve kissed a girl since Sky died,’ or ‘Oh, this is the first time I’ve watched a sunset since Sky died.’ To remember would be to remember doing my laundry with Sky, or working with Sky, or just being with Sky.
After leaving LA around Labor Day, I returned to
And that’s what I have right now from Sky. If he was a nerd, then he is the kind of nerd I aspire to be. That responsibility that demanded I take in that stray, and that earnestness that was too much on the day that we met: these are the things I am clinging to as I greet each new day in the anti-Sky world. And maybe, just maybe, as the days go on, little slips and shreds of experience will fall onto the pool of my days and blossom like origami into memories that I can accept one by one. And maybe that way I can remember him and mourn him without the enormity of his absence overwhelming me.
Just a few more memories
Dear Sky,
I went to your memorial this weekend, and quite frankly, I miss you a lot. Even though I'm now in New York and wouldn't be passing you in the hallway or sharing a beer with you on Fridays like we did at Caltech, there's this void in my life knowing that you're not here anymore. I'm sure your off on another great adventure, but this time you're not coming back to share your stories with us, and that's hard.
I went to your memorial this weekend, and quite frankly, I miss you a lot. Even though I'm now in New York and wouldn't be passing you in the hallway or sharing a beer with you on Fridays like we did at Caltech, there's this void in my life knowing that you're not here anymore. I'm sure your off on another great adventure, but this time you're not coming back to share your stories with us, and that's hard.
Right now, I'm regretting that I didn't tell you how much of an influence you had on my life. I had some really tough dark times at Caltech dealing with my own undiagnosed depression and you were one of those people who always cheered me up and could make me smile and get me to laugh, and that was a rare thing for me. You had such an amazing ebullient personality that was incredibly contagious and it provided some brightness in my life and some good cheer. Thanks for making it impossible to be unhappy and always brightening my day.
Field trips were always fun with you. You always made me remember how amazing nature was and just how awesome it was for all of us to be outside learning about the Earth. A lot of the wonder and awe of nature often gets obscured by the technicalities and rigor of science, and you had the ability to put things in perspective and make me remember and appreciate the beauty and magnificence of the world around me.
I'm not sure you knew this, but you were the person I had my first beer with. In fact, you were the first person I got drunk with. You probably would have wanted to know that, and I could not have asked for a better person to share my first drinking experiences. I remember spending a long time that night just looking at the stars in the sky and drinking that beer with you. You might not remember that night on the Ge 106 field trip, but I sure do, and it was those small
gestures like sharing a beer and looking for shooting stars that meant so much to me. I'm sure you thought nothing of those types of things, because that's just who you were and how you treated everyone, but I hope you know how much those small things meant to people (particularly me) and just how much they could brighten up someone's day.
gestures like sharing a beer and looking for shooting stars that meant so much to me. I'm sure you thought nothing of those types of things, because that's just who you were and how you treated everyone, but I hope you know how much those small things meant to people (particularly me) and just how much they could brighten up someone's day.
One of the other things I will never forget about you is how you challenged me to grow and move beyond my comfort zone. I regret now that I never took you up on your offer to smoke pot with me, because I knew then and I know now that you were trying to get me to push my limits and try something new. I was nervous and scared to do something so outrageous and not typical of me at all so I never took you up on your offer. Next time someone invites me to do something a little crazy and rebellious I'll try to remember to do it in honor of you.
Anyway, I hope you're having a blast and enjoying yourself wherever your travels have taken you. I definitely miss you, and I hope you know that I've grown a lot and am better person because of you.
Take care,
Meghan (Crowley)
Note from Alex Sessions (Caltech fellowship fund)
Hi Eve,
I'm writing to let you know that Dianne and I forgot to make an important announcement at the end of our talks on Saturday. Sky's fellow grad students and friends here at Caltech are in the process of organizing a memorial fund in Sky's memory. The idea is that we will accept donations from anyone who wants to donate, and that money will then be given back to graduate students over the years in the form of grants for doing things that meant a lot to Sky - environmental activism, research, education, outreach, etc. The students have not yet worked out all the details of how the fund will be managed, or where checks should be sent, so we are not quite yet ready to make a formal announcement. But if you could help us spread the word now, so that people know it is coming up, we would appreciate it.
The ceremony on Saturday was beautiful. It was not nearly as sad as I had feared, and which I think would have suited Sky just fine. Such happy and fond memories of Sky are really a testament to his wonderful spirit and sense of humor. Dianne and I were truly honored to be able to speak there, and our hearts are with you and the rest of his family as we continue to struggle to find some peace in all of this.
We'll be in touch further about the fellowship fund.
best wishes,
Alex
I'm writing to let you know that Dianne and I forgot to make an important announcement at the end of our talks on Saturday. Sky's fellow grad students and friends here at Caltech are in the process of organizing a memorial fund in Sky's memory. The idea is that we will accept donations from anyone who wants to donate, and that money will then be given back to graduate students over the years in the form of grants for doing things that meant a lot to Sky - environmental activism, research, education, outreach, etc. The students have not yet worked out all the details of how the fund will be managed, or where checks should be sent, so we are not quite yet ready to make a formal announcement. But if you could help us spread the word now, so that people know it is coming up, we would appreciate it.
The ceremony on Saturday was beautiful. It was not nearly as sad as I had feared, and which I think would have suited Sky just fine. Such happy and fond memories of Sky are really a testament to his wonderful spirit and sense of humor. Dianne and I were truly honored to be able to speak there, and our hearts are with you and the rest of his family as we continue to struggle to find some peace in all of this.
We'll be in touch further about the fellowship fund.
best wishes,
Alex
Sunday, September 23, 2007
At Sky's memorial service, I ended by quoting from a personal statement Sky had written when applying for a graduate fellowship a few years ago. One of the students at the service requested that I post the last line. Here it is:
"Resilience and growth are fundamental to life, and I feel extremely lucky to be able to both study these forces and realize them in myself."
May these words bring you comfort.
"Resilience and growth are fundamental to life, and I feel extremely lucky to be able to both study these forces and realize them in myself."
May these words bring you comfort.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Stars
There are stars whose radiance is visible on earth
though they have long been extinct.
There are people whose brilliance continues to light the world
though they are no longer among the living.
These lights are particularly bright when the night is dark.
They light the way for mankind.
~Hannah Senesh
Fwd: From Baron Davis
Good evening:
I am the personal assistant to one of Sky's fellow Crossroads alumni, Mr. Baron Davis. Since graduating, Baron has gone on to become a professional basketball player, currently with the Golden State Warriors, out of San Francisco, CA. He is dedicating this season to Sky's memory and has asked that I send you the following personal message.
Please post the following memo from Baron Davis on your blog site:
"I'm sad to hear about the recent tragedy. Sky was an amazing soul. We shared laughs at the kiosk and I used to always joke with him about his name.... Skkkkkkkyyyyyy Rashby!!! During opening night of the upcoming 2007-2008 NBA season, I will donate $200 per point. FOR YOU, SKY!"
Please accept our deepest condolences for your loss. Our prayers are with you and Sky's family and friends.
Sincerely,
Lori McDearmon
Personal Assistant to Baron Davis
I am the personal assistant to one of Sky's fellow Crossroads alumni, Mr. Baron Davis. Since graduating, Baron has gone on to become a professional basketball player, currently with the Golden State Warriors, out of San Francisco, CA. He is dedicating this season to Sky's memory and has asked that I send you the following personal message.
Please post the following memo from Baron Davis on your blog site:
"I'm sad to hear about the recent tragedy. Sky was an amazing soul. We shared laughs at the kiosk and I used to always joke with him about his name.... Skkkkkkkyyyyyy Rashby!!! During opening night of the upcoming 2007-2008 NBA season, I will donate $200 per point. FOR YOU, SKY!"
Please accept our deepest condolences for your loss. Our prayers are with you and Sky's family and friends.
Sincerely,
Lori McDearmon
Personal Assistant to Baron Davis
Friday, September 21, 2007
From John Abelson & Mel Simon
We were with Sky on his last field trip to Western Australia. We were there not as mentors but as donors, through our foundation, the Agouron Institute. We are supporting the new field of geobiology and the students on this trip will be the founders of this new field. We came also as students.
At Duck Creek we mapped two billion year old formations that hold clues to what happened in that early part of Earth’s history. Though Sky was a student on this trip he also became a leader. After spending long days in the field he continued on into the night entering our geological mapping data into the computer.
We did not see any evidence of the darkness that was soon to take him. He stripped off his clothes and swam in all of the billabongs we encountered and when our trucks were stalled at a river he mapped the new route for us to cross it. During the endless miles of our trip we listened to our iPods, our songs old, his new. He seemed happy and in his element.
Like everyone who knew him the news of his death came as a shock to us and we feel a sadness that does not and will not quickly pass. And yet because he was among the first, the best and the brightest of this new field of geobiology he will be remembered. Around campfires in Australia, in Africa, in Greenland, wherever there are ancient rocks -- students thirty years from now will ask: Tell us about Sky Rashby… and the founders of this field, now old, will tell the story.
John Abelson, PhD
Melvin Simon, PhD
[Original Photo & note]
Beggarly Heart
When the heart is hard and parched up,
come upon me with a shower of mercy.
When grace is lost from life,
come with a burst of song.
When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from
beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and rest.
When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner,
break open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of a king.
When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou holy one,
thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder
~Rabindranath Tagore
========================
Sky,
I never got the chance to thank you for showing me mercy, song, the chance for rest, that light still existed during the dark times in my life.
I am so sorry for not recognizing this in yours.
Forgive me.
I think, even though we didn't spend too much time together, we could recognize similar parts in each other.
I knew you felt deep pain, maybe that's why I confided in you. I thought you had figured out how to deal with the tragedies in life and I looked to you for advice. I am so sorry I put this burden on you. I just wish you knew that you could come to me and talk or not talk, anything. I could have told you that those thoughts lessen, that the feeling of being nothing goes away with time, that you have a place in the world, that rest doesn't mean giving up, that people love you, that I love you. Sometimes I miss you so much, especially when the sky is brilliant like it is today. I don't know where you are; I keep going back and forth on the God issue, but I think you are with my dad. You met him that one time you drove me home. He asked me about your hair. You are a memorable guy. I'll always remember you. I just wish I could turn back time, make things different; I bet you had that wish too.
-Xinning
When the heart is hard and parched up,
come upon me with a shower of mercy.
When grace is lost from life,
come with a burst of song.
When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from
beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and rest.
When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner,
break open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of a king.
When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou holy one,
thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder
~Rabindranath Tagore
========================
Sky,
I never got the chance to thank you for showing me mercy, song, the chance for rest, that light still existed during the dark times in my life.
I am so sorry for not recognizing this in yours.
Forgive me.
I think, even though we didn't spend too much time together, we could recognize similar parts in each other.
I knew you felt deep pain, maybe that's why I confided in you. I thought you had figured out how to deal with the tragedies in life and I looked to you for advice. I am so sorry I put this burden on you. I just wish you knew that you could come to me and talk or not talk, anything. I could have told you that those thoughts lessen, that the feeling of being nothing goes away with time, that you have a place in the world, that rest doesn't mean giving up, that people love you, that I love you. Sometimes I miss you so much, especially when the sky is brilliant like it is today. I don't know where you are; I keep going back and forth on the God issue, but I think you are with my dad. You met him that one time you drove me home. He asked me about your hair. You are a memorable guy. I'll always remember you. I just wish I could turn back time, make things different; I bet you had that wish too.
-Xinning
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