Tears of Joy

Saturday we held the reunion of the friends and family of Enayat, in the park in Eatonville. I was so happy to see so many friends and relatives, including my daughter and her boyfriend who came from Olympia bearing delicious garlic biscuits. It was an all vegetarian potluck, delicious salad and vegetable dishes. It was as if each person brought something I might have prepared on my best day. The joy and fellowship was so encouraging.

In the evening I took a fuzzy red sock that my daughter had given me [as she wasn't wearing it] and made it into a sock puppet for a baby gift, cutting off the toe and using that to make ears, and embroidering eyes so there would be nothing for Baby to pull off and choke on. 

This morning I went to a giant baby shower [for which the sock puppet was my gift] and absorbed the joy and fellowship there. Many people sent along their best wishes and prayers for Enayat and for me. It feels good to absorb all the happiness to ameliorate the sadness and concern I have been feeling. It's almost like a medicine. I never used to really open my heart up to people before.

This afternoon I paid one more visit to Enayat at the farm house in Eatonville. Zia and Neda had spent the day organizing his things and packing up for the trip to Boston that Enayat's daughters and I believe will be a one way trip, but one never knows. The plan is to fly out at 11 PM this evening; they're getting an early start.

Enayat informed me that he plans to stay for a few days in Massachusetts, then return and really "get going" on his plans to teach meditation. He looks pretty good, claiming his swelling is down; the edema is up to his thighs again, and he has been coughing. The massive doses of Lasix he had in the hospital are wearing off. I really think that Enayat's positive outlook and spiritual nature have kept him going physically, and helped him compensate for his kidney disease, longer than he might have done otherwise. [Denial pays off; who knew?]

At home this morning I found a book of Baha'i Writings in Farsi that I could part with, and wrapped it up as a gift, with instructions to open it on the plane. It went into his carry on luggage [whenever I hear the term carry on luggage, I picture a vulture with a small, dripping suitcase in its beak.]

We took photos together: Enayat and Zia and Josh and Neda and Judy and me and a friend of the family. The luggage packed up, we came downstairs, and before the ones traveling to the airport got into the car, we gathered under the porch roof, listening to the rain, and Enayat chanted a prayer for gathering; then Allahumma, then the prayer "O Lord of the Angels" all in Farsi.

The first time I heard that prayer, Enayat had come with me to the memorial service south of Spokane for my Uncle Jack, and when people were offering their memories of Uncle Jack, Enayat offered that chant, which is very beautiful. Then I heard it again back in Eatonville when we attended the funeral at a cemetery on Stringtown Road, for one of Enayat's friends, "The Bee Man", who had been murdered. I don't think that case was ever solved. Apparently the Bee Man, when he was asked about whether his honey had been pasteurized, would pick up a jar of honey, wave it in front of your face, and say, "It's been past your eyes." Anyway, seems like when Enayat and I first got together, all we did was go to funerals.

So, there we stood, listening to the rain on the roof, chanting, our eyes streaming with tears.

It was time to go.