I just found out that one of the laywomen who participated in the laying-on-of-hands in my ordination passed away a week ago. The service was Saturday; strangely, I was back at FCC Pomona last Friday for a performance of John Rutter's Requiem, and I looked for Gertrude and was disappointed not to see her. She was one of the few people I kept in touch with from Pomona, and I didn't even do that very regularly. She was a schoolteacher who never married, and she lived with her friend Muriel for over 50 years. She was gentle and funny and smart, and she reminded me of my Grandma Watson. I have a letter somewhere in which she described the waves at Morrow Bay; she was one of those people who would have never identified herself as a poet, but her letters testified otherwise.
I wish I would have written her back that last time. "Busy" is such a lame excuse, really.