Remembrance

This is what I said as I hosted a remembrance yesterday in the lobby of the School of Education where I am the Dean. The remembrance was for the first dean of the school, who passed away in January. I had only met him once. Does my subculture typically have remembrance gatherings? No. I made it up. This will explain why.

Why do we meet together after someone is gone? It’s not for them, it’s for us. This is when we consider how a life was lived, and reflect upon our own lives in the process. 

I am often inspired and surprised as I hear life sketches read at funerals and memorial services. I learn learn things about people that I never knew, and I often wish that I could have known them well enough to know these things. That I had asked the right questions. And listened. That they could be here to hear the appreciation for their value in the lives of others.

Why do we not hold an life celebration for people before they are gone?

The best memorial service I ever attended was for my father-in-law, a nonbeliever. Because church was not relevant, we all gathered in his daughter’s beautiful backyard north of Seattle, with a sumptuous potluck laid out. Relatives and friends reconnected and chatted happily under the evergreen trees, with a stream gurgling next to us as it ran by. 

And then someone got us started.

We told stories. Anecdotes about Dad, about our experiences with him, describing his character along the way. Mostly there was laughter and very few tears. The stories went on and on; he’d had a heart attack at 38 and yet managed to live to 80-something. There was much to tell, and the air was full of warmth. It was beautiful.

When I started working as Dean, four years ago here in the School of Education, there was a cardstock sign by the dean’s office door honoring Willard and Blanche. I didn’t pay attention to it until one day when Christine from Advancement invited me to go with her to visit Willard. We sat down and had a lovely little chat with him. He was lively and congenial. When I heard in January that he had passed away, I thought, "Oh no! Who got his history? He was Dean here for fifteen years, but few of us who work here now, knew him."

And then I thought of that gathering under the evergreens. It is good to sit around, with food, and tell stories. We can find out about this gentleman who shaped our School of Education.  We can extend his story by retelling, in the hearing of those who knew him, and new people. This is is our version today of sitting under the evergreens.

And it's past time to have something better than card stock. There is a proper plaque by our Dean's Office door now. Come by afterwards and take a look. We are gathered to tell stories. So let us begin, and enjoy the experience as many of us remember Dr. Meier.

There followed a lovely time of storytelling by former students, colleagues, neighbors and faculty members from the past. It was all that I had hoped it would be, and people expressed appreciation. I have a deeper sense of the history of my office, stories to inspire and inform me in my work, and that is ... very good.