Claudia's Visit To Saturna

August 16 2009

Arriving at Wende's Saturna Island cabin , it is almost completely dark. I look up the long sweep of driveway towards the house and my heart is suddenly heavy with grief. There is a pile of firewood ready for splitting, small wood neatly stacked in the shed, ready for the promised winter ahead. A new railing sits, as yet unpainted, above the recently Kim-crafted staircase to the downstairs room. 

Wende's shoes are inside the doorway. Runners, hikers, plastic sandals, gum boots, slippers, kayak booties, Blunstones, and a brand new pair of water shoes as yet unused; her grey woolen tam that she has worn for years, is hanging on a peg. Her work gloves stiff with mud and the shape of her hands rest on a shelf. 

All the items that Wende chose to bring here are sitting in their places with extraordinary finality: bottles of oil, a row of hanging pots, utensils in a tasteful vase, a row of candles and a clock. A piece of Wende's art dominates one wall; a black circle with delicate lines softening the blackness, does nothing to alleviate the grief. 

That first night, I am awake and cannot sleep until after a spectacular sunrise fills the landscape with magical light, the ocean still and glassy. Then I finally sleep while Faith rides her bike to the lighthouse. 

Being here is a painful "meditation" on Wende; it is "Wende immersion". Here in her most special place, so much about her is expressed... and her pink razor is sitting by the tub. 

Our conversations are framed by her presence: "Wende must have been so nourished by the ocean nearby". "I wonder if she planned to paint the shed". "Did Wende make these mugs?" "Look at how much light Wende gets through those great windows she chose". Has/had, does/did, is/was, tenses interchanging as the reality of loss slowly shifts.

Our conversations are full of Wende, remembering, wondering, regretting, sitting with sadness and loss, moving with sadness and loss ... we care for her house and belongings with a special tenderness; we clean out the dust and insects that inevitably accumulate in the hidden corners whether we live or die.

Feeling the closeness of Wende, aware of the sanctuary of peace and joy this place has been for her, intensifies the loss for her of her life, this life, this lovingly created heart place.