peace and gratitude

I had a really sweet day today, sad and lonely at first, the mind busy with thoughts about what could be better. I cried some and took a long nap, and that was nourishing. Then I talked with a friend who is in The Work, and I got to see how if I will treat myself like a dear loved one, there is peace, and gratitude. I like my company, I'm easy (for me) to get along with, we like all the same music and food! So the rest of the day was delightful, I walked by the river, cooked some yummy food, and enjoyed the peace that was so deeply and readily available.

I am continually amazed by the transformations that are available with the simple process of questioning stressful thinking. I say it's simple. It is that, and lasting change is also a long process in my experience. It is the undoing of generations of thought. I started this process in 2003, and often wish it was moving along faster with it's evolution in me, but hey, that's just another stressful thought!! I am grateful for this tool that rocks my world.

What I know is when I'm hurting, I'm believing something that isn't true for me. It can be a puzzle to figure out what it is, but once I get to it, always peace, space, aliveness returns, and I am so grateful.

Happy Solstice and Merry Christmas!

Tara

Over and out

I just want to let you all know that I am not writing much these days. I'm struggling with feeling sad, lonely, overwhelmed much of the time. I am working, caring for Cameron, our home, spending time with friends. All that goes pretty well, the sadness comes and goes but isn't everpresent anymore. Sometimes I'm just a person for a while and I'm grateful for that. But home alone, I'm not doing so well. I have experienced depression before, and feel close to that at times.

I am doing what I know to do, or as much of it as I can muster. Some of the simple things, like walking every day seem too hard, or too exposed, vulnerable. I've always gotten through times like this before and I know I will get through this too. I am planning to do more of The Work with a skilled facilitator beginning in the new year. In the past that has bouyed me, freed me of the oppressiveness of overwhelm and sadness.

I also know lots of people are struggling, this time of year with the holidays and lack of sunlight can be hard of many of us. And I have so much to be grateful for, I feel sad that I'm not more aware of it, but then that's just more sadness! Uggh. It does feel circular, and tough to reverse the downward trend. I am doing what I can, and holding some trust that the next thing will indeed come and I will be here for it.

I also decided to write privately now when I do write, as much of it involves other people and that isn't fair to post on the internet.

So, much love. Thank you for your support during the last months of David's life, it was an amazing time of heart-cracked-open and I love that kind of availability to one another. Thanks too for your love for him, or me, always, and for being yourself in the world. We really are all in this together.

If you want to reach me at some point, my email is tarademere@gmail.com. Phone is 207-338-9999.

Over and out.

Tara

Celebration of Life

Hi All,

I started this post 6 days ago. Then I went back to work, and have been busy getting the house back together after a weekend of company. I was having trouble putting the order of service on here, and I see now that that there is still some error with the print size. I am going to publish it anyway, and when I have time, I'll come back and try to shift it around.

Meanwhile, here are some thoughts about the service. More to come.

The service yesterday was amazing! David would have loved it. We even danced at the end, as hard as that was to do without him. Seth and Tyler received a thunderous applause from the crowd, and Chrissy reminded us how excited David was a year ago announcing "My boys have made a CD!!!"

At some point I'll have some photos of the service, and hopefully a link to the recording of it, but for now, here's the order of service with lyrics to the songs. Many friends and family shared stories and I will include mine here, at the end.

Sorry the service is a bit messy, it didn't copy well here as you will see.

love, Tara

In Loving Memory David Stuart Demeré April 18, 1959 – November 1, 2010

David Demeré Memorial Celebration Saturday, November 20, 2010 11:00 AM at First Church in Belfast

Music for Gathering

Sound of Bells

Opening Words and Lighting of the Chalice

Hymn of Invocation Spirit of Life words and music by Carolyn McDade

Spirit of Life, come unto me. Sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion. Blow in the wind, rise in the sea; move in the hand, giving life the shape of justice. Roots hold me close; wings set me free Spirit of Life, come to me, come to me.

Musical Interlude Give Yourself to Love words and music by Kate Wolf

Time for Remembrance

Seth Yentes

Andrew Baker

The Clements Family

Family and Friends

Musical Interlude Gaelic Mantra by Dorothy H. Robson

All is Impermanent

The Diamond That Cuts Through Delusion

Hymn Let it Be a Dance

Summation and Benediction Bell sound

Postlude Lord of the Dance (repeat)

Guided Meditation

Musical Interlude Tapestry text by William Blake, music by Audrey Snyder

Memorial Eko

Silent Meditation

Service Led by Rev. ShinKai Bonnie Versboncoeur Ministers: Rev. Mary Wellemeyer, Rev. Charles Demeré

Choir of Unitarian Universalist Church of Belfast, Led by Lila Nation Piano: Clayton Clemetson, Lila Nation

Vocal Trio: “Skylark” Paula Roberts, Chrissy Fowler, Molly Lebel Vocal Solo: Howard Sawyer

Reception organized by Chris LeGore and volunteers from the Unitarian Universalist Church of Belfast

Contradance with Chrissy Fowler and “Whiffletree” Seth Yentes and Tyler Demeré

Give Yourself to Love Words and Music by Kate Wolf

Kind friends all gathered 'round, there's something I would say: That what brings us together here has blessed us all today. Love has made a circle that holds us all inside; Where strangers are as family, loneliness can't hide.

You must give yourself to love if love is what you're after; Open up your hearts to the tears and laughter, And give yourself to love, give yourself to love.

I've walked these mountains in the rain and learned to love the wind; I've been up before the sunrise to watch the day begin. I always knew I'd find you, though I never did know how; Like sunshine on a cloudy day, you stand before me now.

So give yourself to love if love is what you're after; Open up your hearts to the tears and laughter, And give yourself to love, give yourself to love.

Love is born in fire; it's planted like a seed. Love can't give you everything, but it gives you what you need. And love comes when you're ready, love comes when you're afraid; It'll be your greatest teacher, the best friend you have made. So give yourself to love if love is what you're after; Open up your hearts to the tears and laughter, And give yourself to love, give yourself to love.

Let it Be a Dance Words and Music by Ric Masten Chorus: Let it be a dance we do. May I have this dance with you? Through the good times and the bad times, too, Let it be a dance. Let a dancing song be heard. Play the music, say the words, and fill the sky with sailing birds, Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance, let it be a dance! Learn to follow, learn to lead, feel the rhythm, fill the need to reap the harvest plant the seed, Let it be a dance! Chorus Everybody turn and spin, let your body learn to bend, and, like a willow with the wind, Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance, let it be a dance! A child is born, the old must die; a time for joy, a time to cry. Take it as it passes by. Let it be a dance. Chorus Morning star comes out at night; without the dark there is no light. If nothing's wrong, then nothing's right. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let the sun shine, let it rain share the laughter, bear the pain, and round and round we go again, Let it be a dance.

Lord of the Dance words revised for this occasion by Buck Sawyer I danced in the morning when the world was begun. I danced in the Moon & the Stars & the Sun. I came from Heaven & I danced on Earth. In a wondrous world I had my birth: Chorus: Dance then, wherever you may be I am the Lord of the Dance, said He! And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said He! I sang in the mountains and danced by the sea I played my drum so you could join with me. The music of life is a joy to share. And now my song is everywhere. Chorus I set my course and dance like the wind For peace and joy I will twirl and spin My heart is light and my step is strong. I bless you all with love and song Chorus

Thank you for being here today, and thank you all so much for loving David these 7 1/2 years. And particularly, thank you to everyone who helped to make these last weeks with David amazing! Your support made a bitter time, bittersweet instead.

One rainy summer night on the corner of Main Street and High, here in Belfast, David and I were walking, and we heard music coming from under a canopy. The beat was good so David took my hand and started doing the classic partner dance moves that I loved so much to do with him. I remember I was wearing a long flowy blue dress that soon became totally soaked and stuck to my skin. Yet on we went, whirling, beaming, loving our town, the band, these bodies for enabling such bliss, and each other for the willingness to dance like this!

In addition to how much fun David was to dance and play and explore the world with, he also had this amazing capability to move closer when things got hard. He would look me in the eye, take a step toward me with his heart wide open, and say "ok, yeah, what else?" And he would stay and listen and love and listen and love, until whatever I was upset about dissolved into so much appreciation for him, and for life.

Simultaneously, David and I shared the practice of not necessarily believing we were right, or that everything we thought was true. It was amazing to know we would support each other this way, and it was fabulous fun for me sharing naturally this level of humble self-inquiry with David.

As a result, I have a healed heart. After loving and being loved by David these 2 1/2 years, for the first time in my life, I have a full, whole, healed heart. This is one of the gifts that David gave to me.

Perhaps I got to love David as his most free, evolved self. I feel lucky that way. Certainly we struggled with the daily task of getting along with another human being. And we both were conscious of trying to be easy on ourselves and each other. This did not come naturally, but we were willing to try again and again to grow in this way. Cancer treatment was intense, even brutal at times, but David persevered courageously through it all, and I got to witness and support him in that. For me, as hard as it was, I know this whole thing was something that happened for me, instead of to me.

David was my love, my husband, my friend. He valued marriage and the commitments that go with it, in the same way that he valued full engagement with life at every level. I am so grateful that he shared a piece of his life with me. Tara

burial photos

At long last here are these photos. It was quite a magical day. These are from three cameras. It is a bit of a production to get the photos from email to blog and set up so they make sense, and I just haven't been up to it till now. Hope it gives a sense of things. Seth and Tyler did a phenomenal job of both the work to make the coffin and clear the burial site, and also to hold the space for everyone to be welcomed and to honor and grieve together. To be on their farm with their horses to bury David was incredibly special to many people. And Lucretia was there, walking to the site with her 4 day old baby boy. She's in the photo with Jonathan and the shovels, and Anna is in the last photo with Ada and Seth. Busy day with shovels. Most everyone took part. It was a powerful recognition of just exactly what we were doing there. I've decided to include Joanne's Moesswilde's poem from this day because with it, the whole story is here.

november 3 2010

gather on cool sunny november morning
at house where he lived and died.
body in boat box is carried to black van by sons and friends.
long, slow drive away from the sea to the farmland of the sons .
brown leaves rain down on us as we drive on this sunny cool morning.
boat box moved from van to
hay wagon
and there, one son hammers each nail to seal the lid of the boat box with the man's body inside of it. all watching. bells chiming.
on the hay wagon
pulled by 2 beautiful, black draft horses,
the boat box rides.
down the road,
into the field,
along the river. bells chiming.
with mother, father, wife, sons, daughter, grandbabies, friends following.
the ground is brown
the sun shines,
the air cool, clear.
the boat box now carried by hands of friends and family up a hill above the river,
to the clearing made just yesterday by the sons. bells chiming.
we all gather by the hole;

nearby the boat box now rests. bells chiming
the boat box waits by the hole
for all the blessings and goodbyes and tears. bells chiming.
as the blessings are said,
the leaves rain down through the sunny, bare trees
with sweet words spoken. bells chiming.
singing bells chime over and over again as a soothing mantra that holds us all, each one.
words are spoken that bring tears to listeners and speakers alike as the sun warms us all.
oak leaves cushion our feet. bells chiming
blessings, words of friendship, poems and songs frame the setting and hold each soul
as we wait for mother earth to take him back. bells chiming.
strong sons lower father, husband, son, grandfather, friend
into the hand dug hole. bells chiming.
a son puts the first shovel of earth into the hole that now holds the boat box, saying goodbye. bells chiming.
the father and the mother and another son and a daughter and the all friends and many of the children put shovels of dirt in the hole. bells chiming.
we all say good bye, one by one, with a bit of soil. bells chiming.
all join in to bury the boat box with the man's body inside of it. bells chiming.
bury it in the ground under 6 ft of rich soil under oak trees and sun and birds and wind. bells chiming.
every shovel-ful takes us another step away from him.
some danced on the grave to pack it down
soil mounded higher and higher, just so.
sticks mark the corners. bells chiming
soon a stone will mark the place. bells chiming

the bells stop.
the people disperse, some to a big oak tree down by the river,
the children lead to the tree, they are ready to move on.
one climbs high
then back down
then we all run thru oak woods to catch a ride back home
on the hay wagon.
one less among us now.

Potluck and dance details, new location: the First Church

A memorial service and celebration of David Demere’s life will be held next Saturday, November 20^th at 11:00 at the First Church in Belfast, 8 Court Street. There will be a potluck luncheon immediately after the service, followed by a contra dance. David’s sons Seth and Tyler will provide the music, with Chrissy Fowler calling the dances. This was all carefully planned by David, who wanted to be sure that his service included joyfulness and dancing in community.

The UU Church is organizing the potluck luncheon. In David’s spirit, we encourage people to consider hearty dishes made with local foods, if possible.* Mini-quiches and easy to eat items are welcomed too, as some folks will likely be sitting, and others milling around snacking. Please email Chris LeGore (legore@maine.edu) for ideas on what to bring, or to let her know what dish you are making, so we can be sure to have a good variety of foods for David’s celebration. Dishes can be dropped off before the service in the upstairs Parish Hall, or in the fellowship hall immediately behind the sanctuary. Please arrive a few minutes early if you are bringing food so the food organizers can join us in the service. Hot things can be kept warm in an oven, and there is room for crockpots to be plugged in.

If you are traveling a long way, or not able to bring food, that's fine. There will be plenty, so please join us for lunch.

* If you make a dish without dairy, wheat, beef or corn, please label it as such, so that Tara and Cameron can enjoy your dish.

Thanks all!! See you Saturday!

marking firsts

My 14 year old son Cameron had a day off from school Wednesday, so we set out to do some errands. He likes to play loud rock-n-roll in the car and I find that sometimes I can't handle it, and other times I like it. This day I was enjoying bouncing around in my seat and singing along. Cameron sings too and that's 1/2 the fun for me, hearing him sing. We went to Olympia Sport hoping to find basketball shoes, but nothing fit quite right. Then to Aubuchon Hardware for some potting soil. We walked in and spotted a woman who works there who I've spoken to frequently over the past 4 years. I did a lot of renovating when I first purchased City Point house and Aubuchon was my friend. However what came to me this visit was a conversation I had with her at some point when I must have told her about David and she shared that her husband had died of cancer when her son was a teenager. I remember she said it was hard, but ultimately a gift for her son, to know that life does not go on forever, and is indeed a gift that's here right now. I didn't tell her about David's passing. I just smiled and said thank you and left. As I got to the exit door, I remembered another woman who works there, the owner's wife, who told me she had lymphoma, a cancer similar to David's, that had been controlled with medication for more than 5 years. We talked about how horrible it was to have to depend on chemotherapy (poison) drugs to keep away something that would otherwise kill her. She is the mom of a young child and was grateful for every extra month and year that the drugs had bought her. But I could hear the toll the illness had taken on her family and her marriage. I remembered this all in a flash, and as I released the door from my hand, I realized I haven't seen her in a while. I wonder if she is even alive?

The next stop was the credit union, and I walked in aware that this was my fist time in since David's passing. I realize I'm marking firsts. First time since David died that I saw the view of the bay coming into town on Rt 3. First time taking a walk down the railroad tracks. First time seeing our wedding spot. First time talking with our challenging neighbors without him. First time eating dinner with his parents, just the three of us. And first time to the bank.

I went to a cashier I dont' know well, but spotted a woman who knows David, and who set up Cameron's savings account this past year. She didn't look at me, but came out through the door to greet me up on this side of the counter. She came over quietly and slowly with her heart and her eyes wide open. and I started to cry right there in the bank. She said "I'm so sorry, Tara." I've never hugged her before but I was very glad to hug her now. I said "I miss him so much," and the tears rolled down my face. I asked how she knew and she said she saw it on the computer. I didn't know if that meant she's reading the blog, or had seen the obituary, but I didn't care. It was powerful to have it acknowledged, and I cried in her arms, for my husband, for the women at Aubuchon, and for all the people I don't know but who know this pain.

Later I talked with a friend who shared that she had just attended the funeral of a 5 day old baby. The umbilical chord had ruptured during the birth and the baby had lost a lot of blood and been on life support from the start. The parents, my friend said, seemed to be in a place of deep acceptance that this was as long as this child needed to be here. I don't know where that kind of deep acceptance comes from, but I do wonder about it.

I have watched David's mother, Margaret, caring for David, sitting with him, holding his hand, reading to him, doing her best to give her son the gift of self-forgiveness in his last days. I can't imagine what that has been like for her, this boy she's loved for 51 years, plus the time when he was in her belly, and now she's asked to say goodbye.

I had a birthday Thursday, November 11. My son and his schooled friends had the day off and a couple of them and their moms spent the night. Cameron's homeschooled friends joined us as well, and we played outside, worked in the gardens, had a bonfire of old decking, and began to erect a privacy fence on one border of the property. The sun shone brightly all day and I was grateful for that. In the evening I went to dinner with two friends and they sang me "Happy Continuation Day." It's a Buddhist point to not call it birth, because that perpetuates the myth, the lie even, that there is a beginning and an end to life. Instead the Buddhists believe that life did not begin with birth and does not end with death, but continues on from form to formlessness, form to formlessness. There is something entirely peaceful about this for me. I can find where I believe David is ok. And I wonder what to do about the waves of sadness and loneliness that come so frequently. Today I mostly just let them roll. I talked with friends during the day, and tonight I made a few phone calls hoping to connect. No one was available, so I sat in "feeling crappy". For awile. Then I decided to watch a movie, send an email or two, and now I'm here, having made it through another day post David's death, and I'm ok. I do wonder, if we are evolving as beings, then one day perhaps knowing the perfection of things will come naturally instead of being a learned experience requiring concientious effort, as it seems to be for me now.

more thoughts on grief

I went to the Belfast Coop a few days after David died, just for a few apples, and was shocked by what happened there. I walked in the door, a woman I didn't know came running at me, wrapped her arms around me saying sadly "I've been thinking about you so much!" I mumbled a bit about the hard and the sweet of it all. I found my apples and got in line where I was approached by a man I know, but had forgotten had lost his wife 6 yrs or so before I arrived in Belfast 4 1/2 yrs ago. He said "I've wanted to talk with you but I just can't. It's too hard, it's too close." He could hardly look me in the eye. I said "That's ok" but I could tell he wanted something else, a resolution to this pain, perhaps. I wanted to talk with him, share a bit, see if some of the comfort I have felt would be available to him. But not now, it's too close for me too, right now. I paid for my apples, headed for the door, and was face to face with a woman with whom my last conversation had been a painful one. That seemed to be gone for her, but was alive in me. She said "I'm so sorry." and some other things. I mumbled some more about the good in it too, and that seemed to be painful for her to hear. I hadn't been prepared for this, for other people's grieving. I had the thought "I'm not doing this well." I glanced behind me and there was Flic, our Hospice coordinator for the county and our friend. "I'm making this worse," I thought.

Later David's dad Charles told me that in some cultures there is a week-long at home grieving period, and wondered if I wanted to do that. Too late!! And Yes! I also realize that if I had gone out with the awareness that my whole community is grieving, and everyone in their own way, that would have helped. Now I am prepared to breathe, say "mmmm", and "thankyou". This suggestion isn't in the hospice pamphlet, but I think it should be.

Then this poem arrived and it is so fitting, I want to share it with you.

There should be some silence in this place so thought can harvest things it's lately caught. I hope that you will take this as a resting space. A bench provided just before the clearing up ahead.

Rest here, be foolish, not merely lady, gent. Be a little useless for a time. Turn around and chase your tail. Roll on your back, paws up and out. Rub up against me as you pass. My old leg is sturdy and as good a scratching place as yonder tree. Lap the day up in my lap. Inhale the earth. Suck in my breath. And breathe it back to me in ways I have forgotten.

Arms around me these past years have not been commonplace, your comfort passed to me from out there, somewhere - dare we call it outer space, has kept me safe. Your thought embraces better than the memory's triumph over time. I have longed for you, thought up songs for you, missed and mourned you as the times passed past. Here you are. Brought back to me by your wish mixed with mine. Noise cannot touch us here. I will try and make for you the calmest place there is within this loud and getting louder world.

No map to help us find the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. Rolling down the other side of life our compass is the sureness of ourselves. Time may make us rugged, ragged round the edges, but know and understand that love is still the safest place to land.

Rod McKuen, April, 1998

Waldo County Peace Activist Award

The Waldo County Peace Activist Award was conceived in April of 2005 by David Demere as an active expression of his desire "to promote peace and social justice now and after I pass on." Already in the second of his seven years of living with cancer, David himself brought a lifelong commitment to promoting nonviolence and peace in the world. As his health improved somewhat in the Spring of 2005, his hope was to stimulate young people to think about pursuing the study and practice of peace as well as to support a few in actually doing so. To that end, he and his family donated the first seed money for the award and encouraged others to contribute as well. Dozens of local individuals and organizations responded, including Waldo County Peace and Justice Committee, Veterans for Peace, Belfast Area Friends Meeting, Belfast Unitarian Universalist Church, and the First Church of Belfast.

Each Spring students from the various Waldo County high schools who have been engaged in some form of peace activity are encouraged to apply for support from the WCPAA Committee. The first two Awards were granted in May of 2005, and over the past six years ten young people from three different high schools have received a total of over $11,000 for activities ranging from volunteer relief work in Sri Lanka and in Africa to helping support peace related studies at colleges and universities from Bates and Colby, Presque Isle and Machais to Georgetown, Earlham and Mt. Holyoke.

It is altogether fitting now that the Peace Activist Award become a Memorial for David as he had originally envisioned years ago. Donations may be made out to the WCPAA's fiscal agent, "Belfast Area Friends Meeting," with the memo notation "Peace Award" and should be mailed c/o C.Biebel, Treasurer, 242 Fisher Road, Monroe, ME 04951.

Obituary and Celebration of Life

Belfast- David Demeré, 51, died Nov 1, 2010 from bone marrow cancer, 7 1/2 years after being told he had a six month life expectancy. David lived gallantly, both with cancer and without, and died at home with friends and family by his side. He was born in Marietta, GA, April 18, 1959, the third of four children of Margaret and Charles Demeré. He spent his youth in the Cleveland Park neighborhood of Washington, DC, attended the Quaker Sidwell Friends School there, and graduated from St. Paul's School in Concord, NH. During his Washington years, David formed several lifelong friendships at Macomb Playground. David possessed two qualities that all who knew him would instantly identify: his boundless enthusiasm and his detail-oriented planning and craftsmanship. Beginning at at an early age, these abilities facilitated innumerable outdoor adventures and deep encounters with the natural world. At age 15, David and three friends hiked the Long Trail through the Green Mountains. Without adult chaperones, they completed the 260-mile trip in 30 days. The next summer, he and a friend took a summer-long bike ride from Washington to Maine and back. His practical skills and notable Southern charm persuaded the parents that the teens were capable of venturing forth on their own. Later, David traversed the rest of the U.S. by bicycle. David found huge satisfaction in sharing the wonders of nature with family, friends, and young people. He attended College of the Atlantic, focusing on Outdoor Ecological Education, and worked as an environmental educator at Tanglewood in Lincolnville, Maine. David’s happiest moments were marked by whoops of joy, whether upon scaling precipitous peaks, plunging into frigid mountain lakes or ocean waters, or cutting the waves with strong winds filling his sails. He loved sailing, and also worked as a sailing instructor and made boat deliveries. As a member of Come Boating! in Belfast, David taught youth and adult sailing and founded a youth rowing program. David danced with joy at contras, ballroom venues, and outdoors at Belfast Summer Nights, where he, in his yellow crocs, was frequently the first person up dancing, always exhorting others to join in. David’s essential quest was to live a meaningful life: to do meaningful work, explore inner and outer worlds, and always strive to do better. In 1985 David learned about Co-Counseling and pursued it fervently. Over the years he learned to be easier on himself and others, and to be an engaged listener. Even in his final weeks, he was trying to do a better job loving people and loving himself. It is possible that his efforts to live with, beat, and eventually die with cancer became his most successful pursuit in making life meaningful to him and those around him. He sought a spiritual life, grounded in nature and nurtured by numerous Christian, Buddhist, and Self inquiry studies, most recently through the Belfast UU Church, Non Violent Communication, The Work of Byron Katie, poetry of Rumi and Danna Faulds, and his marriage to Tara. He took care of his body with plentiful exercise and good diet, and his strength of body and spirit kept him alive through three rounds of stem cell transplants, and repeated chemotherapy and radiation. David loved carpentry and crafted a low-impact, self-sufficient lifestyle: renovating old homes, building a greenhouse, and cutting firewood. He built boats with his sons Seth and Tyler, helped build Toddy Pond School, and was an involved and loving homeschooling father, He was also a WERU volunteer, Belfast Coop Board Member, soccer coach, ecofeminist, singer, drummer, and visionary. He was a board member and chairman of Debley Foundation, a family charitable foundation working to improve the lives of disadvantaged women and girls around the world. David traveled to Kenya with Expanding Opportunites to help build housing, and to Louisiana with his St. Paul's Class of ‘77 to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity after Hurricane Katrina. With David as their drummer, the St. Paul’s alumni played a short rock-n-roll concert to cheer on the weary long- standing Habitat volunteers. David was a life-long peace activist. He worked for Peace Action Maine on door-to-door campaigns, organized conferences for War Tax Resistors, and was once arrested during a nonviolent protest at the Bangor Air National Guard base, spending the night in jail. A dedicated member of the Waldo County Peace and Justice Group, David founded the Waldo County Peace Activist Award in 2005 to support graduating seniors pursuing peace studies. David is survived by his parents, Margaret and Charles; wife Tara and stepson Cameron; siblings Bill, Jodie, and Paul; three children, Lucretia, Seth, and Tyler, their partners, and their mother Chris; three grandchildren, Minh, Ada, and Minh’s newborn brother; and countless cherished family and friends. He will be missed. A memorial celebration of David’s life will be held Saturday Nov. 20th, at 11 am, at the First Church, 8 Court Street in Belfast. Following the service will be a potluck lunch and contradance. Donations in David's honor may be sent to the Waldo County Peace Activist Award's fiscal agent, "Belfast Area Friends Meeting," with the memo notation "Peace Award" c/o C. Biebel, Treasurer, 242 Fisher Road, Monroe, ME 04951.

we bury David

november 3 2010

gather on cool sunny november morning
at house where he lived and died.
body in boat box is carried to black van by sons and friends.
long, slow drive away from the sea to the farmland of the sons .
brown leaves rain down on us as we drive on this sunny cool morning.
boat box moved from van to
hay wagon
and there, one son hammers each nail to seal the lid of the boat box with the man's body inside of it. all watching. bells chiming.
on the hay wagon
pulled by 2 beautiful, black draft horses,
the boat box rides.
down the road,
into the field,
along the river. bells chiming.
with mother, father, wife, sons, daughter, grandbabies, friends following.
the ground is brown
the sun shines,
the air cool, clear.
the boat box now carried by hands of friends and family up a hill above the river,
to the clearing made just yesterday by the sons. bells chiming.
we all gather by the hole; nearby the boat box now rests. bells chiming
the boat box waits by the hole
for all the blessings and goodbyes and tears. bells chiming.
as the blessings are said,
the leaves rain down through the sunny, bare trees
with sweet words spoken. bells chiming.
singing bells chime over and over again as a soothing mantra that holds us all, each one.
words are spoken that bring tears to listeners and speakers alike as the sun warms us all.
oak leaves cushion our feet. bells chiming
blessings, words of friendship, poems and songs frame the setting and hold each soul
as we wait for mother earth to take him back. bells chiming.
strong sons lower father, husband, son, grandfather, friend
into the hand dug hole. bells chiming.
a son puts the first shovel of earth into the hole that now holds the boat box, saying goodbye. bells chiming.
the father and the mother and another son and a daughter and many friends and some of the children put shovels of dirt in the hole. bells chiming.
we all say good bye, one by one, with a bit of soil. bells chiming.
all join in to bury the boat box with the man's body inside of it. bells chiming.
bury it in the ground under 6 ft of rich soil under oak trees and sun and birds and wind. bells chiming.
every shovel-ful takes us another step away from him.
some danced on the grave to pack it down
soil mounded higher and higher, just so.
sticks mark the corners. bells chiming
soon a stone will mark the place. bells chiming

the bells stop.
the people disperse, some to a big oak tree down by the river,
the children lead to the tree, they are ready to move on.
one climbs high
then back down
then we all run thru oak woods to catch a ride back home
on the hay wagon.
one less among us now.

beautiful open casket full of love

I hope you all are up for this. For balance, I am including this photo of David and his childhood buddy Mika. This is early September, just two months ago. I guess it helps me with perspective to remember that David really did live life as fully as possible, including sailing a few times in the last weeks of his life.

I also want to let you know that the photos below are of the open casket. The first two are of the beautiful offerings that were loving placed by so many friends and family, to say goodbye and honor David, and also of the space in the barn that cradled the casket. Please note his yellow dancing shoes! The final two include his face. It's entirely optional to view or not. If you do, also notice the big maple leaves, brought by a friend from David's house on Head of Tide, and the love notes, the book of beloved Donna Faulds poems, the herbs and kale because "David loved kale!!", and his hand embroidered UU nametag. He doesn't really look like himself. I guess that's another reason to include the live David here above. The next post will be the burial.

love, Tara

Just Now

Waking up this morning I realize how outer focused I've been the past weeks and days. When I reread last nights post before submitting it, I noticed that I was out, out, out. Looking out for comfort, looking out for being ok or not, looking to outer circumstances to determine how to feel, how to be. Painful! I rested quietly upon waking today, breathing deeply, noticing I had returned to myself. Then I sat quietly and breathed for a few minutes, a mini meditation, the first in weeks. I feel calm, relaxed.

Yesterday a woman stopped by with flowers and a photo of David in Kenya shortly before he was diagnosed. She shared that she's kept that photo on her healing alter all these years. David knew she was holding him this way, and now she was bringing me the photo to have for the 20th. I was feeling so scattered I didnt' settle down long enough to really hear her. She said she was just here for a moment, I mumbled that there is so much adjusting to do, and her reply as she opened the door to leave was "yes, and . . . just Now, . . . just Now," a smile and she was gone. It took me till late last night to realize that I've been avoiding experiencing Now. I'm not sure what I've been afraid of, but I havent' wanted to be Here, so I've been Out There, and so no one has been Here, and I experience that as Lonely!!

This morning I notice a willingness to be, to see what is here now, in the present moment unencumbered by thoughts of past or future. That feels like wide open space inside, and moving slowly, with quiet curiosity, noticing right now what life is presenting. A few days ago a friend said "Life knows what it's doing." I loved that so much I wrote it down and posted it in the kitchen. When I hear that, I notice I relax, become part of things instead of believing I am separate, and it feels right.

Thank you Meredith for the "Just Now" teaching of yesterday. If you want, please come by again, or call. I'd like very much to visit with you.

grief

Today I feel so raw and lost. I guess when David died, I was so grateful that it went as well as it did, I felt full for a couple days. I had taken the wedding ring off his finger and added it to my two, so I wore our three rings, and I felt like he was here with me, in me. Then when we buried him, it was incredibly beautiful, so perfectly him, the words, the sorrow, the dancing, and there were people there on both sides of me most of the day, loving me, supporting me. I felt peaceful and full of the images of recent days.

The hardest part for me was when his casket was at the bottom of the hole, before any dirt was thrown over. It was just so far down, his body unreachable. So final. A bit later I climbed to the top of the little hill in the new cemetary, listened to the stream to the west, noticed there were green fields visible through the trees to the north and south, and then looked up at the sunlight and when I felt the warm rays upon my face the words quickly came "Oh, David! " I felt him there in the rays of light.

Later at a friends house it happened again. I had been inside talking, and when I stepped out in the sunshine, sat down in a chair and curled my body in it for comfort, then raised my face to the sun, again it came "Oh, David! You're the sun." That seemed right to me, David was such a source of light, healing and nourishment for me, and for so many others. Right that he would be the sun now, available most of every day to all of us.

That night when I was washing up before bed, I saw the three rings on my finger and knew to take them off. It was time. I'm not married anymore. I'm a widow. My husband is dead. My finger feels empty, unfamilar, like my house and my life.

The next two days I mostly felt relieved. This has been such a long journey of illness and health and illness and health and illness. And I've just been around for 2 1/2 years of it! I can't imagine the stamina it took for David, and all his family and friends, to do this for 7 1/2 years. I've been grieving the loss of him since October of 2008, when I witnessed his illness taking over, and spent 5 months traveling to Illinois with him for Chemotherapy and finally in February his third stem cell transplant. It was brutal, the whole thing. I'm happy it bought him some more time for loving and dancing and seeing his children grow, and seeing my child grow, and helping me be the best mom I could be and teaching me how to love and trust and be husband and wife. I waited my whole life to learn these things, and David was totally available to teach them to me. He valued marriage so much, and honest communication, and safety, and showing up. He worked so hard at it, with himself and with me. He is the only man I have ever known who would move closer when things were hard between us. Like a miracle it was, loving him.

Meanwhile the cancer and cancer treatment were brutal. The idea was to take him as close to death as possible without actually killing him, and then to bring him back to life with the new cells. It worked, but I cried so much during that time, just cried and cried whenever I was out of his room. I also ate sugar in the cafeteria, trying to not feel. It's a good thing they didn't sell alcohol because I probably would have gone for that instead. Anything not to feel.

Not feeling is kind of what's going on now. I had a clear job the past 6 weeks, care for David, make sure he had what he needed, make sure there was always someone here with him, keep the household running, care for Cameron, do a little self-care for me. Now I wander around the house, feeling empty and confused. The first days I was so tired, but couldn't really sleep. I've been so exhausted and I know my brain has not been working fully. Yesterday I went to yoga for the first time in months and found that I was scared. I have been neglecting my body, and didn't know if I could count on it to be strong when I needed it to. But it was ok, and I think I need to be stretched in unfamiliar directions to unstick what is stuck here. Then I had an accupuncture treatment here at the house. Cameron had stayed home from school sick, grief doing it's job on his lungs now too, so he was treated as well.

When I had my first treatment earlier this summer, Elizabeth explained that sometimes long standing depression goes away after a few months, in addition to improvements in whatever other condition is being treated. That sounded good to me as I have experienced depression at times in my life, and certainly felt overwhelmed and sad about the emminent loss of David. And I have noticed things getting more stable in me. This day, she said my pulses were all there, but very weak, except for heart protection, which was very strong. Her aim was to spread the life force around. I mostly dozed while she worked, and when she left I stayed on the table and slept for more than an hour. When I awoke, I was so relaxed I could hardly hold myself up for hours! Amazing letting down of defenses, opening of availability to be here again.

Today I just felt lost. Cameron wanted me with him almost constantly, and I tired of it. Few people called, one stopped by, and I felt lonely. The house is a wreck, reminders of David everywhere, chaos. I did a lot of dishes, cooked some comfort foods, and snuggled with Cameron.

Some progress in form happened as well. Things are coming together for the service. The sweet many who photographed our wedding came by and we found a photo for the obituary and also made a plan for slideshows on computers at the reception.

Speaking of the obituary, if you know of something significant that you think should be included in the obit, please email it to me by Monday morning at tarademere@gmail.com.

And thanks to the folks who have emailed info about beds available for the weekend of 20/21. Any of you who are coming and need a place to stay, please let me know as there are people in our community who will welcome you.

I also learned how to move emailed photos onto the blog, so next will be a compilation of three camera's worth of documentation of the burial. Hope it gives you a sense of the magesty of it all. Again, I have the sense David is so pleased about how we are honoring him.

love, Tara

food for us

Hello sweet community,

Thank you to everyone who has brought us food. I just want to let you know that Cameron and I are not eating wheat, dairy, corn or beef. Up till now there have been many hands here, and there will be people here on the 20th to eat anything that includes those items, and, if you want to feed Cam and I, this is what we can eat. (and sorry I didn't spread the word more widely sooner). (As a side note, we are feeling much better and the person who identified our sensitivities is Dr. Susan Miller who spoke at the Belfast Coop last month. Vibrant Life Wellness Center 563-6060 She works in Newcastle, Boston and New York. I highly recommend the process!)

Thanks again for supporting us with yummy food!!! And as for David's Service on the 20th, certainly everything doesn't have to be wheat, dairy, corn and beef free, but it would be wonderful if there were labels for anyone who needs them.

love, T and C

Celebration of Life, Saturday November 20th 11am

Hello All,

We have confirmed Saturday November 20th at 11am for David's Celebration of Life at the Unitarian Universalist Church, 37 Miller Street, Belfast Maine. There will be a service with luncheon afterward. If you have a particular story you'd like to share about David, or photo you want to bring along, please do.

4 Hrs driving time from Boston, 2 hrs driving from Portland, 1 hr from Bangor. We can help with housing (some beds, some camping style, in our home and others in the neighborhood), with pick-ups from Bangor, with bus info and more directions if needed. Please come friday night and stay the weekend if you'd like. Belfast is a beautiful, fun town. David lived here 25 years and would love that you walked in his shoes for a while if you can and desire to.

There will be a gathering at our home afterward for those who want to continue to visit together. That address is 125 City Point Road, and is 2 1/8 miles from the church, a very easy, pretty drive by the Passagasawakeag River where David spent many hours walking, biking, skinny-dipping, kayaking, and contemplating.

I felt David in the sunshine yesterday, and feel his appreciation for everything we're all doing to honor and love him now. Hope to see you Nov 20th!

love, Tara

Sweet stories of David

These stories arrived in the past couple of days.

Dear Family and Friends of David Demere, and most especially Tara,

I have wanted to reach out for many months, but have not really known how.
Finally and maybe too late, or perhaps just on time, I send my blessings and my
thoughts. I loved David so much, all his earthly values and virtues and his
incredible passion for life.

David was one of our most special guests at our wedding 7 years ago last
September. Although he came on his stretcher, his spirit was by far one of the
most vibrant and present of all 140 attendees. Not a single person there
overlooked David’s passion for life and also his enthusiasm for our wedding vows
and our celebration of love. When we got our wedding pictures it took a few
weeks to figure out who was this person skinny dipping off the rock?? It was a
body that looked so strong and vibrant. How could this be a body teeming with
pain, a body that had already overcome a forecast of death? But there was
David, like a Roman God, ready to splash into the cool brackish bliss, choosing
the best that life offers!

I have been carefully following the blogs (Thank you Tara!!) and have so wished
that I had a chance to see David again before his body finally gave way. My
life has not allowed any time to break away, but I have consistently whispered
prayers your way. Since moving down to Portland just over 2 years ago I have
always wished to spend time with David and Tara. We saw David when he passed
thru Portland on trips and stayed nights in our “sleeping nock.” His quick
visits were always special and sweet. I especially loved how he connected with
our children, Owen and Elena, and how he was always ready to roll on the floor
in a good wrestle, even when he wasn’t feeling that strong himself.


Reading the blogs today, I sit at my computer sobbing, all alone. I am struck
by what an incredible family and community David has been a part of and also
part creator. Also, Tara, how strong and clear minded, and beautifully spoken,
and so many things you have been to David thru these times. I wish I could be
there, but I am comforted by all those who have been. Thank you all for taking
such beautiful care of David during these last few years and months! I look
forward to joining you all for the memorial service later this month. We can
all rest well now, knowing that David had a beautiful life and a beautiful
death.


We will all miss him, but never forget his spirit for life!

With Love, Wynne

As I read through your blog, one thing that stuck with me was how you will remember David dancing. I, too, will remember him dancing as he was the first to dance with me at my father's memorial (back brace and all!), and the time my sister and I took care of him in Little Rock.

It was a beautiful day and David wanted to be out in the fresh air. We took a short drive to the local park and he told us to "take me as far as the wheelchair could go". When we got to this point, he said "let me walk for a bit" And so we walked with him a bit. Then he said "Let me climb a bit" so we let him climb. My dance training came in very handy at this point as I became his dance partner going up the mountain. My sister and I tuned in to him so well that all he had to do was reach his hand out for the next step and we were there to support him. At first he said "let me walk to the line of trees". When we reached that point, he said "Let me go further". We walked and stopped until we reached the top of the mountain. He looked at me and said "Scott, we have danced up the side of the mountain!" "Yes, David, we have!" His heart was full of joy that he could go that high and see this great Earth spread out before him. He was happy that he was with 2 people who could lead him safely on this journey, and who could help him gently back down the mountain. He slept soundly that night!

I am attaching some pictures from that journey. Here is David, at the top of the mountain, dancing. This is what I wish to place within his casket - the memory of a great day with a great soul in a weakened body. His spirit shown forth and gave him the strength to spread his wings and fly, even for a short bit.

God Bless.

Scott Crawford

cousin

dancing atop the mountain

- Show quoted text -

Ancient Proverb:

The Lord Smiles to hear me sing,

But he loves me when I dance!