Thursday, February 19, 2009

death follows like one's own skin

I'm back....and...

The month of February has been brutally charming. We lost our nephew to a brave battle with pnuemonia. We were there as he passed from this physical life to the spiritual one.

Israel. 27 years old.

In Mexican tradition (similar to my culture's very old past), there is a funeral service called the velorio which takes place in the house. For five days, sometimes less. The wake. We slept there the entire time.

This past Monday was our last day to say good bye.

I don't have enough to say, but the pictures speak better than I ever can.

playing candyland
the second room
his beloved enduring partner
his ever worried mom
isra and his uncle, gera


Israel Lopez 1981 - 2009 Descansa mijo tu espiritu esta feliz.

11 comments:

ArtSparker said...

I am so sorry.

Wildeve said...

I'm so sorry for your and Gera's loss.

notmassproduced said...

How tragic. Very sorry to hear of your loss.

Angella Lister said...

so very sorry for your loss. and yet it sounds as if it was very peaceful at the end. i hope so. welcome back, we missed you.

mouse (aka kimy) said...

I am so sorry to hear of the death of your nephew; deep hugs to you and all those that knew and loved israel.

there is comfort to be found in traditions like velorio...

when I am confronted by the loss of a person I loved I find much strength in one of my favorite sweet honey in the rock songs, it's call "breaths" based on a poem by birago diop....

thoughts of this song for you and yours - i found a version of the poem on youtube vid, but it's not sweet honey.

the words to the poem:

Listen more often to things than to beings

Listen more often to things than to beings

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath when the fire’s voice is heard

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath in the voice of the waters.



Those who have died have never, never left

The dead are not under the earth

They are in the rustling trees

They are in the groaning woods

They are in the crying grass,

they are in the moaning rocks

The dead are not under the earth.



Listen more often to things than to beings

Listen more often to things than to beings

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath when the fire’s voice is heard

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath in the voice of the waters.



Those who have died have never never left.

The dead have a pact with the living.

They are in the woman’s breast,

they are in the wailing child

They are with us in our homes.

They are with us in the crowd

The dead have a pact with the living.



Listen more often to things than to beings

Listen more often to things than to beings

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath when the fire’s voice is heard

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath in the voice of the waters.

mouse (aka kimy) said...

I am so sorry to hear of the death of your nephew; deep hugs to you and all those that knew and loved israel.

there is comfort to be found in traditions like velorio...

when I am confronted by the loss of a person I loved I find much strength in one of my favorite sweet honey in the rock songs, it's call "breaths" based on a poem by birago diop....

thoughts of this song for you and yours - i found a version of the poem on youtube vid, but it's not sweet honey.

the words to the poem:

Listen more often to things than to beings

Listen more often to things than to beings

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath when the fire’s voice is heard

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath in the voice of the waters.



Those who have died have never, never left

The dead are not under the earth

They are in the rustling trees

They are in the groaning woods

They are in the crying grass,

they are in the moaning rocks

The dead are not under the earth.



Listen more often to things than to beings

Listen more often to things than to beings

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath when the fire’s voice is heard

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath in the voice of the waters.



Those who have died have never never left.

The dead have a pact with the living.

They are in the woman’s breast,

they are in the wailing child

They are with us in our homes.

They are with us in the crowd

The dead have a pact with the living.



Listen more often to things than to beings

Listen more often to things than to beings

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath when the fire’s voice is heard

‘Tis the ancestor’s breath in the voice of the waters.

flawsnall said...

thanks guys for your thoughts. it was a peaceful time for him and he was finally ready. removing the oxygen mask was difficult for us, but in the end, we were relieved with him because it was such a labor to breath. he was very very tired. we are well--his mother is trying; eventually she will get back life...thanks again and thanks, kimy, for the beautiful touching words.

lilaphase said...

I'm so sorry for your loss.

What a beautiful tradition that the family gather. It must be comforting to spend time together during such a difficult time.

Jessicambay said...

Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I hate to hear that you two went through that. Please send my love and prayers to Gera and his family.

SunMie said...

so very sorry...makes your heart stop for a moment in sympathy.

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