Sunday, July 9, 2023
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Carol Larivee
Asha, who I first met as Shirley when I was 14, was the first person in my life who saw me as me, not at the daughter, the sister, the twin. Somehow we transitioned from the mother of my high school friend to a friendship that spanned over 50 years. She was not a part of my day to day but an anchor in my story. Every couple of years, we would connect, once in California, once in my home in Seattle and often in Rockland Maine. The last visit on my last trip to the US from Berlin in 2022. I am so grateful to have had her love and light in my life.
I wrote this poem on hearing of her passing.
It was time
For Asha
I imagine her sinking down into the
yellow and blue flower chair,
the one next to the window,
after a morning stroll in her lush garden
thinking…
it was time.
The sun was filtering into the room.
It was a perfect day and, after all,
rain was in the forecast that would
nourish her garden but shroud the sun,
perhaps…
it was time.
After the snow and dark of winter
the last homecoming …
to this house that she loves and was loved,
to this garden that she loves….
so, why not?
It was time….
to slowly close her eyes and let her mind wander,
the comforting rustling of the house,
its creaks and sighs,
Carl’s energy surrounding her…
It was time…..
to let go and let her essence float
higher and higher
drifting with the summer breezes
hand and hand into
brightness and love.
_______
I now think of Asha on her next adventure lighting the way for the rest of us. Love, Love, Love
