It was an achingly beautiful December day in Northern California, more beautiful than a winter day for a memorial service deserves to be. The turquoise Pacific, on this day unusually calm in deference to its name, gleamed in the warm sunlight. Garlands of clouds decked the bright blue sky. From the Big Sur coastline, we turned down a narrow canyon and followed a one-lane road along a creek. Redwoods cast a hushed gloom that muted the colors in the canyon where small houses, log cabins and pedestrian bridges perched at jaunty angles in improbable places.
My companion and I wondered what it would be like to live in one of these out-of-the-way places, where a drive to the grocery store could take an hour, let alone a drive to the doctor. She told me about a friend’s elderly aunt who moved to the San Juan islands in Puget Sound, living a humble but happy life in quasi-isolation until, one day at 82, she died of a heart attack en route to the outhouse. If only we could all be so fortunate!
As we climbed higher, the redwoods gave way to pine and cypress. Finally we emerged at the top of a ridge with a view of the ocean. A turkey vulture glided nearby on a thermal. Our small group of 23 held a lovely memorial service that drew on Buddhism, the Jewish kaddish, and American transcendentalism. Each of us in turn gave a short eulogy. For a week I had experimented with musical ideas that would capture the essence of our friend, both his gentle Buddhist quietude and his strength and determination. The night before I had at last found the right musical spirit, and I presented a recording of the instrumental song to his wife, offering that composition as my eulogy. We placed rose petals and the ashes around the base of a young cypress tree planted in his memory, then headed back down the mountain.
At Rocky Point, overlooking the rugged coast, we watched the sun set. Wisps of virga fell like soft tears from the rose-tinted clouds. A spattering of molten drops gathered in the center of the sky like spilled gems. The gilded edges of the clouds glowed for perhaps two minutes after the sun vanished beneath the horizon, until twilight darkened the palette of color and succumbed eventually to night.
