Griff
Ocker, a former supervisor of Sarah's at Harry's Mother
Good
Kind
Generous
Honest
Genuine
I
don’t know if a person can be all these things and still live
in fear.
I
do know that I am very sad for us to have lost her—that she’s
not here with us (and for us) any more. I am especially sad for her
family and those closest to her. I know that losing a child is the
hardest strain there is. I hope they know of the respect and support
we carry for them and with them.
But
as sad as I feel, as much as I try to make sense of our loss, I also
keep turning over and over in my head this very basic question—is
it better to live a short brave life or a long one of fear and cowering…that
is, to open or to close ourselves to life and whatever it offers?
We
love you, Sarah, as a friend, as a wise old soul and as a grown-up
kid…a child’s heart and a woman’s eyes.
Give,
give, give, give, give, give, give.
Build up, don’t tear down.
Strategize, don’t criticize.
Lend a hand.
Listen, listen, and care.
Wear your love and care on the outside.
Never show off.
So matter of fact in your brilliance.
Put it all together—pull all together.
Just do it.
So young—so much to do.
How much you’ve given us.
Inspiration and courage.
Now you can see mostly clearly.
Help us learn to live without you—it’s hard.
Beautiful woman and little girl.
The river took her away.
What was that moment like—did you know? As it washed you awayas
you flowed into another life? As you flowed into a hole—as you
flowed into the whole.
As
your hair floats on the water.
As your eyes go distant.
As your heart and mind go cold and quiet.
As your face goes pale.
As your strong and subtle body turns to a rag, goes limp, stops fighting,
and joins the current…
I
play that movie in my head—a thousand times and more—I
just can’t stop it—over and over.
Rushing
water—crashing, tumbling, reaching, choking, gasping
Who
could have known? Who knew? Who knows?
You
know … you know now … now you know everything.
Now
I’m getting far enough away—I’ve got the distance
to look up and see you smiling and laughing above…calm and peaceful
and playful and happy. ( you might as well be happy.)
Huddled
over your body, blinded by that movie, burred by tears, heaving for
breath, face in my hands, I couldn’t see you…just above
us…grinning and trying to tickle us.
But
now I’m starting to open my eyes and face the light…and
I see the real you…shining bright as ever…reminding us
to look ahead…what great things are coming next…what will
we do from here? Thank you for reminding us. We’re still here—and
we’re gonna need that from time to time.
You
must be used to flying already. It probably wasn’t even that
much of a transition for you.
Inspiration to us all.
Be there to help.
Choose your own life—clear and free.
Sweet Sarah, you lived a real life for real.
