In late Spring 2020, I was uncharacteristically down. It was clear Earth is responding systematically, inevitably to the heat under which we are placing it. So much that we have come to revere and love will be leaving their home on Earth – and us.
In late Spring 2020, Kay – our smart, practical, funny, strategic, environment-protecting, magnificent Kay – was coming to the end of living here on Earth. For all the time Kay’s liver had been crumpling from Asarco’s emissions, Bruce had been by her side; her family had been there for her; friends had spent precious moments with her. Some of us sent photos of flowers, because Kay is, well, flowers. So many were working to make Kay’s troubled days as comfortable and happy as possible. And Kay was still funny and beautiful and practical and interested in all of us (and especially Colin).
Two days before Kay was to depart, I sent her a photo of a colleague’s young daughter holding a flower up to the camera. “With all my love,” I wrote.
“Back at you with love and poppies,” Kay replied within minutes, accompanied by the photo of a beautiful red poppy from her garden.
And that, in an instant, taught me how best to face not only Kay’s fading but also the fading of too much of life here on Earth: So much is still so beautiful and worthy of our love. Take care of the Earth every day and try to make it as comfortable as possible. Send poppies to each other.
And remember Kay.