From Bill Powers to Gary Cziko (since we're on CSGnet -- I haven't been
keeping track).
Gary, you're not the only person, by far, to have told me what a deep grasp
of PCT and human nature Mary had. I knew it, but I didn't know that others
knew it. I wish she could see the emails coming in from dozens of people
all over the world, some of whom knew her only through her comments on
CSGnet, but many of whom have known her for a long time in person.
One thing has struck me about the many, many communications brought out by
Mary's death. This is far more like the old CSG than anything I have seen
for some years. There is respect and compassion and support, and -- there
is no other word -- love out there in quantities that haven't been tapped
since the early years. Mary, by dying, has restored us to life. I hope that
is true; I know that I am not quite in a position to distinguish hopes from
realities just yet, but that is how it seems to me just now.
I have been surrounded for the past two days by love and support from
relatives, a perfectly wonderful extended family that is more together
today than for many years -- people from the age of 78 (me) to four months
(my young niece Holly's baby). My sister Alice came from Connecticut; Dick
Robertson came from Illinois; Mary's sister and her family came from San
Diego and elsewhere in California. Barbara Holgate, who cleans our house
every two weeks, came and cried with us. Our grandchildren were brave and
solemn, and knew that they were part of something sad and important.
We had a final viewing of Mary today. The viewing was not what I want to
remember, but for others who were not here at the end it served a purpose:
she is really gone. Afterward we all came to Mary's home, now mine alone,
and showed slides and reminisced. My daughter Barbara copied excerpts from
many CSGnet posts into a book she had prepared, and the other people
present added their own comments. Many will be back for one more day, some
-- my children -- for two more, and then I must start picking up the pieces
of my life.
You, my new friends and the many old ones who have been steadfastly with
me for so long, have been a part of Mary's passing from the first terrible
moments to the final ones now upon us. I wanted you with me; you have
obliged me in the most immediate and generous way. I know you share my
grief, you hardly need to say it, though when you say it the words are
welcome. I would like the results to be Mary's legacy to us -- not just the
wonderful scholarship organized by Lloyd Klinedinst, but a lasting sense
that we are in this together, inspired by the example of one small
unassuming woman (as Gary puts it). My Mary, and yours.
Mary will be cremated the day after tomorrow; we will not see her again.
The magnitude of the loss is still growing on me. I will be all right, but
it may take a while. Stick with me.
Bill