Lila and I took a walk on the trail by the brook today. On the way back, we stopped to rest and enjoy the stillness. As I lay on a big rock, I thought about the funeral I went to on Saturday. My friend’s brother died a few days before. It was a peaceful death, no struggle, just slipping away. He had a brain tumor, was diagnosed in January. He decided to come across the continent from the West Coast to stay with his brother until the end. He told Randy, my friend, that he always left situations cleanly, just cut the root and left. No fuss. And that is how he died. Easily and peacefully.
Joe was a peaceful person, maybe sometimes irritated but never aggressive or angry. The first time I met him was a couple of years ago. He came over with Randy and we went for a walk on the lake. It was winter and frozen then. It wasn’t until he was close to death that I saw his artwork. He did some very beautiful small abstract drawings. Like everything else in his life, he didn’t look for success in any conventional way. He just did his work and passed it on. There are so many ways to be an artist. Living gracefully is, in itself, an art.