The first real job I ever had was in 1976, after graduation from high school and college-because I’m the victim of a classical education, and because I spent many of my early years sick in bed, studying and getting ahead of my classmates, I got quite far ahead in school, and managed to graduate high school concurrent with earning my first bachelor’s degree. I was hired to teach at The Stony Brook School, a private Catholic High school in Stony Brook, N.Y., on Long Island. I taught Religion and History. It was kind of fun teaching kids that were my age or older, but also really difficult at times. I moved into my first apartment; it was directly on the beach, in Rocky Point, costing the princely sum of $120 a month. Another teacher and I became the best of friends. Her name was Diane Parker, and she taught 10th grade English. She was six years older than I, so I often teased her by calling her “one of my oldest friends”. We remained close friends until July of last year, when, just days after her birthday, she died. I called her for her birthday. We had a wonderful visit over the phone, and she sounded well, so full of energy and life. We didn’t talk too much of the cancer that had been consuming her body for almost ten years. She told me that she couldn’t get around anymore, not even using her walker. She used to do hospice work, sitting with people who were dying, as she knew herself to be, as well.
I remember that not too long ago, she told me that she was one of the lucky ones. “How so?” I asked. She replied, “Well, even though I want to live, and I enjoy every day, I know that I’m dying. It makes every day sweeter. And Jeff, as you’ve told me so many times, I know that I am not this body. I am a soul. Even though this body is dying, the Me inside of this body is watching it all happen. That Me will not die. You’re lucky because you faced this knowledge at an early age, and continue to live as though you’ll die tomorrow. I’m not sure what will happen when I leave this body, but I know I will continue to live in some way.” Her courage humbled me. Her deep spirituality encouraged me.
When we worked together, we loved going over to Manhattan. Stonybrook is only about 60 miles away from ‘The City’. Diane loved going to Chumley’s in the Village for drinks , and was surprised that, while I’d gotten a fake I.D. when I was 14, I was rarely carded. Sometimes, I’d drag her over to the Buddhist temple on East 30th. She never shared my fascination with chanting mantras, Asian philosophy, or Native American spirituality, but being a good sport, she’d support me by going along. Through the years, it always surprised her that I didn’t outgrow all that. Most of my friends thought I was just going through what they called ‘a phase’. She was very interested in knowing more about God, though the Asian expression wasn’t her thing. Still, something she heard at the temple stuck with her, namely “You are not this body.”
We used to go sit beside the Long Island Sound and talk for hours about reincarnation, about where the soul goes between births, about Jesus, Krishna, and Buddha, about school, about difficult family relationships, and about life in general. Diane was one of the first women I ever told that I loved-and, yes, the first woman that I ever slept with. I wrote her a love letter, once. Looking back from today, I am amazed by what an extraordinary person she was. She truly loved me because of who I was, not for what she needed me to be or wanted me to be. Many years later, she told me that my letter was one of her most treasured possessions, and that she reread it regularly. We were both natives of New York, and both loved being New Yorkers. We truly loved and appreciated our cultures, but at the same time we weren’t blind to the dark sides of our heritages. In later years we discussed why I had to leave. She stayed, because she felt her roots very strongly. She also absolved me for deserting the East, because she understood why I couldn’t stay. We both talked so much about God and philosophy, but at the same time recognized that the one of the heaviest burdens on our culture was put there by the fundamentalist Protestants, and the “P.C.” crowd. Over the years, I’ve discovered that the oppressive atmosphere created by both types of fundamentalists: the P.C. crowd in New York, and the religious right elsewhere-is a dangerous topic to discuss. There were times when we had to look over our shoulders, or behind us to make sure we weren’t being overheard. What a way to live! Yet, if you could see the ocean or sound, or the Hudson Valley where I grew up, and all of New York's forests-along with the opera, and pizza- you would fall in love with it. Even though I’ve been gone for years, I miss it all very much.
Before she got too ill to travel, Diane came to New Mexico and stayed with us for a week, a final visit. She absolutely adored Rita, and so enjoyed asking her, “How do you put up with Jeff?” I had a lot of fun teasing her, as well. We took a road trip to White Sands. It was in the Fall, there was snow on Sierra Blanca, and you could see for miles. The panorama of desert, mountains, and blue sky was breath-taking. We sat in one of the shelters inside the dunes and had a long visit. She talked about her death. She told me, “I’m not afraid to die. Do you know why?” I shook my head, signifying a “No”. “Because I’ve been here before. I’ve lived in New Mexico, and I knew you then in that lifetime. It was hundreds of years ago, and I died. You died. But, here we are, again. We really don’t die, do we?” I told her that there were many things I wasn’t sure of, but one thing I knew. We are not these bodies. While we were sitting there, a black airplane flew over, one of those stealth jobs that looks like a triangle. Diane looked very sad, and she told me, “Jeff, I won’t be here when it happens, but you will be. Terrible times will come, and you will have to be very brave and cautious.” I asked her what she meant, and she shook her head and said, “What?” I asked her to explain what she meant. She acted as though she had no memory of saying those words to me. We never spoke of it again. I’m used to living with the idea of spirits, prophecies, and visions, but it spooked her. I didn’t want to scare her by discussing it further. Besides, I already knew.
The last time we spoke, just before her birthday, I told her, “You know Diane, you’re still one of my very oldest friends.” She laughed. She told me that her husband Larry was cooking gumbo, but she didn’t think she’d be able to have any. She told me about a new kitten she had, how cute and sweet it was-for once, I didn’t tell her to put it in the dryer with a brick. She also told me that she had seen her doctor, and told him she wasn’t going to take any more chemo. She was very brave at the end. Larry told me that her breathing became shallow, so he took her to the emergency room. She was admitted, and taken to her room. Diane told Larry that she was tired, and wanted to sleep. She closed her eyes, went to sleep, and was gone.
I have my faith, my spiritual beliefs. I know that Diane has gone on to somewhere and something else, other than this place, and it may be better, but I miss my friend. I think of her whenever I hear a song by Elton John. She especially loved his “Crocodile Rock”. I can’t stand him, but it seems I hear it on the radio all the time. Diane, thanks for being my friend. Thanks for accepting my search for faces of God other than Jesus’, and for listening to my endless quotes from the Avatamsaka Sutra I will miss you, dear friend. Have fun surfing the universe.
And thatnk, you, Jenna, for asking what I tend to think of as the question, when I think about it at all. People rarely, as I’ve said elsewhere, think of themselves as dying, or their view of “life after death.” Or life and death. Most don’tever think about dying, and some are well in the biological/material/atheist camp that ”knows” that there’s nothing after this life, and some are looking forward to 70 virgins in paradise? For myself, I know that I will become one with the great mystery-though I try not to “think” too much about what that means
wow thanks for this a lot I would maybe like to believe myself and the idea of reincarnation is appealing I think moreso though if it were possible to download the previous memories
