Jane
08.30.2013
Below the Paris to Seattle sky bus,
a cloud path seems to lead to Shangri-La,
some impossibly beautiful cloud country only spirits can enter.
And I know she is leaving.
Over there, icebergs
and shipwrecked ocean liners,
giant frogs posing as princes,
a burning arrow of pink-gold cloud, a peony.
*
Were we close?
Only as close as twins
who do not know where one begins
and the other ends.
Were we close?
Only as close as two fledgling elf owls,
one a little noisier, finding shade in a saguaro
from the Arizona heat.
Were we close?
Only as close as two children of tender natures,
daughters of a Viking mother—
magnificent—but tough.
Were we close?
Close as two girls, one who loved playing with dolls,
the other, playing with characters in books,
both knowing early on which would be a mother.
Were we close?
Close as two swimmers
in red tank suits, passing the baton
in a relay race.
Were we close?
Close as two best friends, 11 and 12,
trying out our first tampons
in the bathroom at midnight.
Were we close?
Close as two Nordic girls
who gravitate to the sea,
high school in La Jolla.
Were we close?
Close as two astonished virgins
discovering sex the same summer,
one in Zurich, one in Paris.
Were we close?
Close as a pair of ears
thrilling to Dylan’s “All Along the Watch Tower”
and “Lay, Lady, Lay.”
Were we close?
Close as Betty’s daughters, raving about the best books,
The Wizard of Oz to Mrs. Dalloway,
In Arabian Nights to Duino Elegies.
Were we close?
Close as two horses nickering,
galloping, freed, ecstatic
in Berkeley in the '60s.
Were we close?
Close as two artists’ models
costumed as the Mad Hatter and the Dormouse
at an art class Tea Party in Kroeber Hall.
Were we close?
Close as two Viking daughters
setting sail for adventures in the ‘70s
on trimaran and schooner.
Were we close?
When one was in trouble in Ecuador,
she didn’t have to say a thing,
the other leaped to go.
Were we close?
Close as two female artists, slowly learning
how to stay devoted to the making, the shaping,
and cheering each other on.
Were we close?
Close as two monks
who value simple food
and silence.
Were we close?
All our lives when the phone rang,
we knew
when it was the other.
Were we close?
Praying for each other to find a worthy mate,
one who’d be there through celebration and suffering,
the failing body, sailing the long distance with us through the end.
Were we close?
Close as daughters of a splendid father,
fighting for him to finish his life as he wished,
exulting with our family when he returned as hawk.
Were we close?
Close as two art lovers,
speechless at Louise Bourgeois at the Pompidou,
a woman telling deep, difficult truth through her art.
Were we close?
Close as two stars
in opposite constellations,
the Centaur and the Twins.
Were we close?
Close as a dreamer
dreaming with Jane through the bardos,
through the long journey home.
Were we close?
Close as two stars in the same immensity,
connected to each other, and you,
through our shining.
*
Out of thick fog,
two points of a star lit with gold,
or the tail of a fish:
Seattle.
Pine trees, gold
light and sea.
Serenity over all.
Roar of the plane descending.
Race to Swedish Hospital
with Jon and Leatrice. Already there:
Betty, Suki, Ann, Greg,
Bayu, Rachel and Liza.
Jane in bed,
eyes closed, struggling for breath,
beautiful as ever. We hold her hands,
stroke her brow. An hour later, she goes.
Are we close?
Always.
Reader Comments (28)
Kaaren,
Thank you for sharing this deep, rich, and practically inexplicable closeness. My heart has been aching with you, Kaaren. I could not imagine my world without my dear sister, Julia.
I wonder what bird or nature totem will symbolize Jane's presence.
Love,
Marguerite
Dear Suki and Joanne and Dawna and Fernanda and Margarita,
Suki: L.A.? You are the kind of parent our sister Jane was, one who would do anything for her kids. The memorial celebration for Jane was so moving, wasn't it? So important to gather with family and friends in that way. Thank you for this message. Big hugs and love.
Joanne: They were each other's first love and last. There were five of us children, and one of the gifts they gave us was (as far as we knew) not to favor any one of their kids. Much love and gratitude.
Dawna: Thank you so much for this. Someone I love said to me the other day, "I don't think one comes out of the mourning. You just handle it better. It becomes part of your body." I wonder if this is true. Big hugs and love.
Fernanda: It would warm my heart to see you. I send your blessings back to you, and thank you. Much love.
Margarita: Thank you so much. Losing someone so close to you feels like having a phantom limb, you can't really grasp that it has happened.
My sister Suki was the first to say she thought Jane would appear as a bird. My brother's wife, Leatrice, saw a seagull peeking into the hospital room the last hour of Jane's life, and pointed it out to Jon. The next morning Suki and my mother saw a seagull right outside their Seattle hotel room. As I did yoga on Jane's living room rug, looking up at a cloud that reminded me of one of her shamanic creature sculptures, a seagull flew straight across my line of sight, close to the balcony with the Seattle harbor behind. Then leaving Friday Harbor on the ferry the day after Jane's memorial celebration, Jon and Leatrice, Suki and Fred and I exchanged notes and discovered we had all thought of Jane when seeing seagulls. She identified more with owls, but there were seagulls around her in many of the places she lived, most of them near the sea. She came from island people, Norwegians and English-Irish-Welsh, and she was always drawn to islands and the sea.
Thank you and much love.
I'm so grateful for your compassionate messages, all of you, and the private ones as well.
Kaaren (and Richard)
A wondrous eulogy, the kind I'd wager that will be memorized in that world on the other side of this one. Thank you, Kaaren, and brava!
Floyce,
What an amazing comment. I hope that these words reach Jane on the other side. Thank you so much.
Love to you and Karenlee,
Kaaren (& Richard)
Oh my God, that is so beautiful. I am so touched, tears flowing. How lucky you are to have had such a beautiful relationship.
How sad your heart must be. Love you always.
Dear Diane,
What a moving message. Thank you. Yes, lucky. Yes, heart-sad.
I was moved months ago when you sent me your short story about a relationship between sisters.
Much love,
Kaaren (& Richard)
Kaaren,
Art is never too personal. Yes, it is personal, deeply personal, but you crafted it so exquisitely. This poem is beautiful, tugging, a tribute to the love shared between two sisters. Thanks so much for sharing.
All my love,
Cassandra
Dear Cassandra,
Thank you for that. I do love the personal in everything I read. It was just a bit odd to have heard seven other beautiful eulogies at Jane's memorial gathering, and only post mine. They were all so full of love for her. Thank you for our friendship and your gorgeous memoir.
Much love,
Kaaren (& Richard)