How can I summarize a life that has been so rich with you, where
we have shared so much, had so much in common, and loved so much
being together? So rich that many people think that we have already
experienced many lifetimes, yet by count of the years it has been
cut short? Towards the end, you often said that you wanted to
spend another 23 years with me, and I with you. But cruel fate
has taken you away from me.
You loved Puget Sound and always talked about it.
You studied in Pullman and then in Denver. But the mountains
there were not nearly as spectacular as Mount Rainier. And you
missed the salt water and especially the storms over Puget Sound.
We have paddled our kayak out on the open Pacific Ocean, in huge
rollers hiding mountains in the troughs. Your excitement had
no boundaries at those times.
So it is befitting that I am going to spread most of your ashes
right here in Puget Sound where you grew up. I will be in our
Nautiraid, our beloved French folding kayak that we have taken
with us around the world. The ocean never sits still, it moves
and blows and crashes and whirls around headlands. So let some
of the ashes be taken far away, to lands where we have been and
loved and loved each other; to where our kayak has taken us in
Alaska, The Everglades, Baja California, the Stockholm Archipelago,
Fiji, and especially Banggai Islands in Indonesia. Let the ashes
also carry to other places like the glaciers in southern Chile,
to Tonga and Samoa, to Greece, and far north of the Arctic Circle
in the Sea of Norway.
There are places where the oceans cannot reach. As a symbol for
our love for hiking in the Cascades, this September I shall hike
up to the loveliest spot we have seen - in September 1992, up
to the Enchantments. At the top of Aasgard pass, some of your
ashes will come to rest. Ashes I shall also take to Lake Virihaure
at Mid-Summer, north of the Arctic Circle in Northern Sweden.
We hiked there in July 1983. Let that place symbolize your love
for Sweden, and especially for this lovely, treeless, alpine land.
To symbolize our love for India, we have chosen three magical sites:
But the most important travel will go to Thorong La in Nepal.
We had had much in common to talk about, but went separate routes
up to the pass. At the top at almost 18,000 feet we met again,
and Surain - having heard that I was going to India, you asked:
Can I go with you? That is where it all started, on November
3rd, 1977. On November 3rd, exactly 25 years later,
I will let you rest there.
I will save some ashes in case I reach other magic spaces where
we have been. And will let you rest on some of the coral reefs
you loved so much.
Dearest Rain:
How can I thank you for the beautiful life you have given me?
For all these ways of human behavior you have taught me? For
all your tender care? Never will I forget the loving care you
gave to me when I was sick, when for three
months I could not take care of myself, and slowly got sicker
and sicker, and my life seemed to fade away?
It is almost impossible to imagine your situation, if you haven't
lived it yourself. How can it be, that such a happy and loved
person is told, that it will soon be no more? I remember the
emptiness I felt, the feeling of being cheated of the rest of
my life, the feeling of not being ready - but for me, the dying
aortic valve was found and could be replaced and I could gain
life back again. For you, there is no such miracle cure, no way
to break the bonds of cancer of the meningis.
I remember the pride I always felt when introducing you to a person
you hadn't met. This is my wife, isn't she wonderful?
I felt like saying. But I know I share this excitement with many
people - excitement over you, your laughter, your enthusiasm,
your way of making things happen, your multi-ethnical interests,
your conservation-mindedness, and your spirit in so many other
ways.
Yes, you will be missed sorely. The many lives you have touched
will never be the same again without you. I do not even dare to
think about a life without you.