But my load keeps getting heavier and heavier, and I wonder how much weight a heart can take.
His clothes. My walks, in light and in darkness, not one step he has not taken, not one that we haven't taken together. Our memories, now sliced in half, destined to vanish.
There was no way to prepare for this.
Except by entering the stream, alone. No one can do this for me. Grief unbound bruises, but cannot kill what is already dead. Rich and I are in opposite positions now. His container is gone, but his essence moves onward; my container still walks and eats and breathes, but my essence is in the stream, flowing out of me until one day it will cease, and off I will go into a new land.
Meanwhile, my mantra is revived.
Fuck this shit.
The stream needs to know that I can swim.
Candace
2 comments:
Dear Candace,
I just got off the phone with my mom, and I don't even remember what it was that triggered a memory for me to check your blog... I hadn't read it since sometime in July.
I met you this June at Hospicare when I came to visit Rich--I was one of his students in E&M in 2003, and he wrote many letters of recommendation for me: first for summer internships, then graduate school. But we kept in touch after I graduated and later still he graciously agreed to be a reference when I applied to the NASA Astronaut Corps.
Those are just the paper records of the acquaintance we had...and I can't express how grateful I am for his support. However, as I sit at my desk, crying harder than I have in a really long time, it's clear that he made a greater impression on me than just as a physics professor whom I deeply respect. (I hate the idea of using the past tense).
So now I'm catching up on your blog, and it's jogging my own memory... Oct 13th. I'll admit, guiltily, I was one of those suspicious students. In every email I insisted on addressing it Prof Galik, until sometime around the end of my senior year. It was out of a deep and stubborn respect. When I got up the courage to start one with "Hey Rich," (because, afterall, that's how he signed off), he responded with "finally!", and wow did I feel ridiculous.
I'm not even sure how he and I became friends. I remember going to office hours for the first time in the days leading up to the last prelim exam. He forced me to work out one of my questions on the blackboard, which was at once terrifying, and enlightening. It also boosted my confidence when I figured out the problem. As a result, I came back to bother him with more questions. But I think we continued talking because we could discuss things other than physics--like his experience with lacrosse (Oct 29) at Cornell, and mine with soccer. It followed, after I graduated, that visiting Rich--over coffee, or whatever--was always high on my priority list when I happened to be in Ithaca.
Oct 30th. He remains one of the smartest people I have ever known. However, after I graduated and moved into astronomy, when I would come back to visit Cornell, he would ask questions about my research and I felt like I could share something new and interesting with him! I also remember the moment when he told me just how far he had advanced in the interviews to become an astronaut--and how amazed I was that he turned them down, in favor of pursing physics.
Nov 9th. I didn't keep up with Rich's blog either, but I'm watching my dad approach his brain tumors and chemotherapy in a very similar way. At the moment I'm remote observing with the Arecibo Observatory which, although being a random assignment (I'm one of a team of observers for a large survey conducted with Arecibo), seems to be an unlucky event. It was a day before I was scheduled to observe last Spring, that I found out about my dad's diagnosis...
So, I apologize for my rambling. Recalling random memories...writing them down seems like the way to save them before I forget...
It was a pleasure to meet you over the summer. I'll refrain from all the sappy stuff, because I'm not good at it. But, I miss Rich. And I thought you should know.
And I wish you all the strength in the world.
Kelley Hess
kmhess_at_gmail.com
Thanks so much, Kelley, for taking the time to write and share your memories. I know Rich thought highly of you, too, and not just as a physicist, but for your athletic prowess, astronaut aspirations, and straight-up integrity (we are mirrors of those we admire).
I admit all of the cards and comments I have received in the past weeks sing the same notes, and I can't add much else. Even the newer staff at Hospicare, who knew a Rich paralyzed and mostly silent, could weep at the end and say, such a great guy, what an honor to know him...
So it's the "essence" that survives, a "Rich-ness" we can all cherish.
All the best to you, and your father -- please feel free to get in touch for a coffee or such next time you're in Ithaca.
All the best ~ Candace
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