Dancing with the Dead in the Mission

Back in the days of my youth, I thought the Day of the Dead was a spooky, freaky event for (ahem) goth freaks and the morbid. After losing my mother in 2004 and my dad and aunt and first cat in 2006, I started finding comfort in the event. But I sort of saw it as an event to get the death behind me. Only during the past couple of years have I seen it for what it is, a day to dance with the dead and celebrate how they are there at every point. And every year, no matter how young we are, we dance one year closer to our own death.

This year I dealt with the deaths of a few people close but not that close to me, most of them quite elderly and having completed full, rich lives that ended suddenly and painlessly. I lost my dear cat Bunter who shared 20 years with me. On Friday I lost Guru, whose two rich months with me were as valuable as a life time.

The ceremonies tonight held great meaning to me. I shot a lot of video, but since I'm fading (no, not that kind of fading just yet, I'll share this piece from the end of the parade. If you look closely, you'll see wonderfully wacko Frank Chu of the 12 Galaxies fame, a recently married male couple and a Cindy Sheehan supporter saying it's time to raise democracy from the dead.

Tonight's ceremony had a deeper poignancy. During the opening speeches there were some profound comments about how this grassroots, non-corporate sponsored event represents the real America that we rarely see -- one that is culturally and economically diverse, one that doesn't always follow all the rules yet respects so many converging stories, including those who no longer have an heartbeat. And we were reminded that we may very well be on the verge of an enormous cultural change. Many of us lost people who mean a great deal to us this year, yet we have also witnessed the death of some things that are truly horrid such as some of the corporations that fell, and the carcass of the Bush Administration that will creak wearily into the abyss in a matter of weeks.

It's one of my favorite San Francisco events since it has a quiet power that builds as the night goes on. You never completely know what's lurking out there in the dark, and there are a lot fewer drunks and druggies than a most events. But, as my video shows, there is a spooky number of cops on the route, a sign of the number of shootings in the Mission this year and souls that have crossed the rainbow bridge.

Tonight I put down favorite toys of Guru and Bunter on one of the communal shrines. It felt good to honor these glorious four-legged companions who never met yet blessed my life this year.

Face the Dog

Yes, there really is a...Dogbook, a parallel Facebook site. Oh, dear. Thanks to the introduction from Joy of I've Got a Crush on...ME! Now her Basil and Guru are at least cyber friends across the continent. Bunter and Whimsey's "In Loving Memory" profiles are still up over at Catster. Perhaps I should look for Gardenster so my agapanthia can make friends with others in New Zealand or something.

An amazing thing, these interwebs. I bet I can already predict Tugboat Dave's reaction to yet another wacky San Francisco-fused trend.

If you've not friended me already, my Facebook profile is here.

Brothers Reunited Today

Pretending There Is a Star in Me to Be

Saturday afternoon, I had my short memorial for Bunter, scattering his ashes in the back yard near where his brother's are. Above is the video tribute I made to him.

His passing, after nearly 20 years, was peaceful. I found an incredible vet who made house calls and was a poet/philosopher as much as a vet. I won't indulge my readers in all the details of this farewell, except that in his final moments, Bunter let out loud purr as he wrapped his paws around me with the excitement of when we would share a late afternoon together.

He and his brother came into my life in 1990 barely a year old when their first guardian left them with me for a weekend trial. There was no immediate bond, and I was ready to take them back until I saw them staring at me with pathetic longing and I decided to give it another week. They kept their distance from me for at least the first six months. It was close to a year before I heard the first purr directed towards me.

They became a constant during the next two decades, following me to three different states until we finally settled in their native California. (They were born Smith Ranch.)

The bond grew slowly, and when Bunter's brother Whimsey had to be put down two years ago he seemed to assume I was his feline sibling, never wanting me to leave his side. It followed the loss of both of my parents, my aunt and a few friends over the course of less than two years.

So many memories eventually were embedded into their presence -- as much joy as there was loss, betrayal, anger, regret and fear. Their lack of judgment and unconditional love was something that was slowly earned and unexpected. I've struggled to write more about what these two companions meant to me and have feared appearing to be the wretched, crazy cat person as I rhapsodize them. The words haven't materialized, and I apologize for the sentimentality of the video.

Bunter - August 9, 1989 - August 15, 2008

My World Through Different Eyes