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Show did again in my lifetime. I fmembered hew I had struggled, against the illusion of sleep, wanting to understand the truth of death, wanting to taste it's reality. I had feared idealism almost more than death itself, sensing the zombie-like effect of illusion, the half-sleep of living on'e life in dreams, lew I feared the reality more than ideal. I didn't disbelieve the Bible's account of the resurrection, but what I knew of time frightened me. I knew that time can be expansive, full of light and beauty, or it can be dense and heavy and painful. I feared for fte group, for my family, for myself. The heavens wept for us because a good man had passed on, leaving us heavier without him. ly eyes had been open for a long time; I had cultivated uys%f against the erosive influence of running away from things. I knew I must lean into the next moement and face it squarely or I would go on pretending -that he was only away - in Montana or Mexico, visiting another wife or congregation - and that I would see him again and I would tell him all the things I had meant to tell him... The coffin stood alone. Others were embracing, talking or holding hands at its periphery. I took a deep breath and stepped into the neon light, feeling that I had lost the top of: my head. I stcod alone at the coffin, staring at my rather, cead. So much can register upon tha cells of the human body in a single instant. The moment of birth, the impression of -„„-.«, "vu1 1 . shoulders, hips, feet, the first human nana on newcoin o„u--, . . . •_. ^ o iov°-rc between physical bodies, skin on s.an forming ine 10/-- -^ |
