Goodbye Trish

On the day of the fall equinox, Tarn and I are walking the Deschutes River trail in honor of my late sister, Trish. She passed away 49 days ago, and this is the traditional time to do something to help with closure; a ritual of letting go. We arrive at a viewpoint overlooking a place in the waterway where it splits into two channels to accommodate an island of basalt. The water here becomes very turbulent as it carves its way around the obstacle.

We gaze toward the river and allow our minds to merge with the flow. All of a sudden, a woman clad head to toe in a black running suit comes up to us and asks if we would sit with her. She is out of breath and can barely speak. She eventually calms down a little and can tell us she is frightened by a man who seems to be stalking her. She feels threatened. We could see no one on the trail, so the man must have retreated, but we are happy to make her feel safe.

I sense the presence of my sister. Trish was a very kind woman and would have definitely brought comfort to this frightened person. Tarn and I act as Trish’s proxy and offer soothing words to help a woman with very jangled nerves. We listen to the runner’s story and discover she is a well-known lead singer in a rock band that is playing this evening at a large local amphitheater. We do not often listen to music, so do not recognize her name, and the style would probably not be of our choosing. Of course, that doesn’t matter.

The rock artist wants to comp us tickets for the concert, but we gracefully decline. Our introverted natures are not inclined to be around loud music in close quarters with other concert-goers. She totally understands because, ironically, she doesn’t like crowds either; an unlikely meeting of the minds in that regard. Eventually, our new friend feels safe enough to continue with her run, so we say our goodbyes and offer warm wishes.

Tarn and I return to our prayers for Trish, and we watch the watercourse carry away the grief for the loss of our sister. Acknowledging the grief of all who have lost a loved one, we experience ripples of our heart’s compassion in the river’s flow. Trish is still alive in memory, but longing for her form is released, at least in this moment. I remember how much Trish loved to go to concerts with her husband, Randy. Her beautiful essence is now moving to the rhythms of rock music as she finds her way through the bardo of light—while dancing on the roiling ripples of the river.