Post from: Katharine Eliska Kimbriel
In Memory of Friends Gone Ahead on All Hallows Eve
It’s been months since you left, Barbara, and I have to admit I tried not to dwell too much on that, because I knew the next step in grieving is anger—and I didn’t want to be angry at one of the sunniest souls I ever had the privilege to know. I was finally living north again. That meant we could start up the writing group we’d talked about. That meant I could finally drag you out—and be dragged out—for lunch. It meant you could kibbutz on planning a party for the World Fantasy Convention when it hits town in 2006.
It meant so many things, Barbara. And you’re not going to be here for any of it.
Oh, I believe in the next step—in fact, I’m one of those crazy believers in reincarnation. I suspect we knew each other before, and we’ll recognize each other again, if only as souls full of life and love. But I grieve that you’re not here NOW—that we can’t get older and sassier together. That we can’t laugh about Personal Summers, and that you aren’t here to get excited with me about the screwball supernatural caper novel I’m cooking up. That I can’t tell you how much fun your new mystery is, and see how the hair dye episode turns out in Book Two. That I can’t thank you for listening, and encouraging, and believing in me when I’d stopped believing in myself.
We tried to share our grief in a service to celebrate all you gave to us. We tried again at ConMisterio. Meschke and I swapped remembrances with a group of people who had loved and appreciated you—or who had admired you, and now won’t have the chance to enjoy the champagne of your smile.
Third time around for me, and I still can’t stop tears. But I need to say thank you for teaching me many things—the last time, through a training tape I’d never seen. I just paused to hear your voice again, one of your great stories...and you taught me something else about life, and about writing, just in a few words and a few dashed lines.
You were the best cheerleader around. I’ll do the best to keep up the tradition.
Large swathes of the world celebrate All Hallows Eve as the threshold of All Saints and All Souls days. Our pagan ancestors called this time of year Samhain. It was the Feast of the Dead, the eve of the New Year to come, and a time of reflection. We looked back over the year and tried to come to terms with the central fact of life we have no control over—death. The walls of the world grew thin, and we felt the spirits of those on the other plane, and knew that they walked among us, beside us every day. Our ancestors remembered those they loved who were far away, and tried to ease the loss in their hearts. The Yule was just around the corner, and the Sun would return soon.
It was a cycle. Rebirth was promised. And as long as we remembered our dead, they lived. It was simple, and it holds truth today.
We remember. Walk
in brightness.
It’s like riding a bicycle, Barbara. Writing...loving...life. Thank
you for sharing the journey. There’s an ofrenda in my heart, and
you are there.
With love,
Katharine Eliska Kimbriel