Kimberly's Memorial Pt 3: Three Eulogies
The following are the opening (Wil), Closing (Cai) and Waldorf (Peggy) eulogies from Kimberly’s memorial.
Wil’s:
Welcome. We are gathering here to remember Kimberly, to think about how she moved through our lives, how she impacted our experience and the experiences of others.
To paraphrase Ted Lasso from a scene that seems remarkably apt at the moment.
This is a sad moment for all of us. There isn’t anything I can say that can take that away, but please do me a favor. Look up and take a look around at the people here. I want you to be grateful that you are going through this sad moment with all these other folks because I promise you there is something worse than being sad. And that is being alone and being sad. There is no one here alone.
Inevitably, when someone leaves us before their time, there will be questions. They usually start with, what if…
Some of those questions lead to remorse.
What if we had more time together?
Some to guilt.
What if I had reached out before the end?
Some to a smile or a changed behavior?
What if I channel Kimberly’s no-bullshit ways?
Towards the end I witnessed Kimberly choose her questions more carefully. Tonight is about doing the same. I know she would love nothing more than for you to ask questions that lead you to cultivate the joy of a child (in both senses) and bring more beauty into the world.
I am from Wales, the Patron Saint of Wales, Dewi Sant or St David, was an ascetic and ran a monastery. A few days before his death he gave a sermon.
“Arglwyddi, brodyr, a chwiorydd…”
“Lords, brothers, and sisters, Be joyful, and keep your faith and your creed, and do the little things that you have seen and heard I do. And as for me, I will enjoy the path our fathers trod before us.”
I like to think that if Kimberly was reading this here, she might have grinned and furtively adapted the translation to say mothers instead of fathers. She certainly embodied being a mother and loved nothing more than to help other mothers on their path.
“Gwnewch y petheu bychain”
“Do the little things”, it is David’s most quoted idiom. When combined with another favorite, “brothers be ye constant,” it speaks to a word I have contemplated a lot. This was especially so, when Kimberly and I lived together. I like words.
Equanimity - A state of mental or emotional stability or composure arising from a deep awareness and acceptance of the present moment, is one of my favorites.
Kimberly and I had the opportunity to dive into the word when we hosted a visiting teacher and speaker at the Denver Waldorf School. Michael Howard had just written a book on Educating the Will and felt cultivating equanimity in children was important. The thing is, you do not develop it when life is easy. I will be honest, living with Kimberly meant I had plenty of opportunities to work on my equanimity. Some I took and some I didn’t.
When Cai and I invited her back into our home after discovering she had cancer, there were many times I felt resentful. We had a history of hurting each other, and my space was no longer my own. Besides, we had parted ways for good reasons several years prior.
The thing is, I would never have seen the evolution of how she approached our relationship if we hadn’t. I would not have seen how she found grace at the end. I would not have heard the vitriol replaced by gratitude. I would not have felt the calm presence that she became.
I am genuinely thankful for experiencing those things. To see a person change in front of you, to see them blossom, is a gift. It reminds us how we can also change, leave the parts that we do not like behind, and become the person we want to be.
Memorials are an opportunity to hear stories of admiration. They encourage me to think about what I want people to say about me when it is my time. They leave me pondering what behaviors I can modify to make sure that people say good things.
The only way we develop and grow is by doing the work. Kimberly modeled this so much in the last year of her life. Living in her bed, Cai and I witnessed her become the person she was born to be, incarcerated by her body, sure. However, she became unfettered from a mind that dwelled on what had been wrong in her life. Instead, she chose to look at the beauty life holds.
Gwnewch y petheu bychain a glywsoch ac y welsoch gennyf I
Do the little things that you see and hear that I do.
Kimberly would love to know that she inspired you to make changes in your life. To find the beauty it holds. To see the sunrise in the morning. The goshawk open its wings and fly from a tree. The bumblebee spread its pollen. The leaves turn golden and red.
She would love to know that you found the same peace and acceptance that she did in the end.
Here’s to Kimberly and doing the work.
Peggy’s:
“THOSE WHO HAVE PASSED THROUGH THE GATES OF DEATH HAVE NOT CEASED TO BE PRESENT, IT IS JUST THAT OUR EYES HAVE CEASED TO SEE THEM” - Rudolf Steiner
This quote from Rudolf Steiner, founder of Waldorf Schools, illustrates the foundation of his philosophy - that the human being is so much more than a physical being. We are at our core, eternal spiritual beings that are in relationship to everything in the universe. Waldorf education, which touched Kimberly so deeply, has at its aim the fulfillment of each human life, and the betterment of the whole world.
Thank you all so much for being here. Let us first take three slow, deep breaths together to arrive. To connect to the Earth, to each other., and to Kimberly.
Please join me and close your eyes now, allowing your heart to fill with all of the love and appreciation that you have for Kimberly, and gratitude for all of the ways she touched your heart.
Imagine that love and appreciation as a warm golden glow within your heart, that grows with your attention. See that glow growing beyond your heart, and continuing to grow so that the warmth of your love and appreciation connects with the glow of all the other hearts here, until we are surrounded by a great golden sphere.
And continue to let that golden heart glow expand beyond our circle, to fill our city, our state, and even the entire planet. See our beloved Earth enveloped in the glow of appreciation, gratitude, and love.
There is great power when many hearts and minds are focused together with love and appreciation. And so we light our lanterns in her memory, in a symbolic gesture honoring the beautiful light within her, and within each of us as well.
Cai’s:
Where does one begin discussing the life of one so lived? Kimberly Anne Mayes was a powerful force of personality and love in this world. She was an impressive student, hard worker, biologist, traveler, teacher, scientist, cook, sailor, and so much more.
Beyond all of these labels, to me, she was something more. She was the woman I called my mother. It is no stretch to accredit her with much of my childhood experience and even parts of the individual I continue to become.
Anyone who had the opportunity to meet my mother knows that she was incredibly headstrong. Of course, this quality comes with mixed connotations. However, this being a eulogy, meaning good word, let’s focus on the positive implications. When Kimberly set her mind to something, the likelihood was it would happen, no matter what obstacles she faced. From class trips to friendly gatherings, very few things managed to best her through hardships or simplicity. Even in her passing, I believe that she had come to terms with her own death. It was not a fight she lost, rather a reality she accepted.
Death is a difficult subject to broach. It is sad, many find it horrible, and much of our culture and instinct implies that it is bad. However, in the past few months, I have been reaffirmed in my opinions that this is not true. Yes, it is a sorrowful time, but there is also much happiness. Amidst the grief that has undeniably consumed me, I have found new joy in life that I had not previously recognized.
Beauty is not infinite; it cannot last forever. The understanding that something must have an end is what makes it so wonderful. Flowers will always wilt, stars will always fade, a flame will always crackle into embers. Yet these things color our fields, brighten our skies, and light our worlds. Similarly, life must reach its finish. We as humans are impermanent beings, and that is why our lives are so beautiful. We cling to the fleeting moments because they are special, not because they will last forever.
Bearing witness to someone’s passing is a reminder of this beauty. My mother came to accept her death, which allowed both herself and those around her to celebrate life in a seldom celebrated way. Rather than fearing an end, she embraced her journey to reach that point, and in turn, taught me to do the same. I implore you to heed this lesson: endings are inevitable, but they can be beautiful. Rather than wallowing in despair, smile about all of the wonderful light in your life; it won’t last forever; savor every moment of it.
Beyond holding the light in our lives dearly to our hearts, we can also create it. I believe my mother was a massive proponent of spreading brightness in this world. The words I have heard from those who knew her of late have been beyond comforting; I cannot extend enough gratitude for the impact everyone’s shared thoughts have had. Reminders of the many lives Kimberly touched positively have been a citadel of solace in my grief and prompted me to continue to follow in her footsteps. I encourage you all to do the same, endeavor to spread light, not just hold it near.
I will not pretend that Kimberly was perfect by any stretch of the word; she was human. This condition, humanity, unites each of us no matter our differences. My mother helped instill this idea deep into my being, striving to model kindness and love, even in the face of difference and adversity. She always held light in her heart for those struggling, no matter the nature of her relationship with them. Among the many lessons I believe everyone could take from Kimberly, this is the most important. The world can be a dark place, but in darkness, a light shines its brightest. I hope we can all learn to nurture that flame of love and kindness in the same way my mother did.