Part Three: On death and dying

Part three: (In a time of minimalism and living a simple lifestyle, why do people keep memorabilia?)

Here we standing around are in a room of people, soft conversations and the music keeps playing tunes. We hear over the speaker the country singer wail: “You’ve got to pick yourself up and keep on keeping on”.

Scott says follow me and like a line of school children we followed the leader into the room next door.This room next is 1,200 square feet and is filled with 6 or more round tables and chairs. There are cafeteria tables loaded up with catered food and drinks. Nobody says a word as we scan the room and then we turn and see the cake.

I can’t recall how the cake is decorated only the green and brown icing. On the wall directly above the cake is a display of a white karate uniform, top and bottom belted with Ted’s green belt and brown tips. (Ted had reached the level of one step below brown belt when he stopped training with us, twelve years ago.)

Whoever put this display up of treasured memorabilia was technically off. They had wrapped Ted’s belt around only once.

I said nothing. My husband said nothing and then:

Scott said: “Sensei Judy, I think my dad would have wanted you to fix the belt and

wrap it properly”.

This was in fact a terrible error but the lay person would never have noticed. So the three of us, because of this imperfection leaned in and attempted to make it perfect! As we carefully kept the length of the belt off the cake, we worked together tugging and pulling and fussing and at the same time we filled the room with stories about karate, Scott’s dad, my dad and then Don had some of his own Ted stories to tell.  We also spoke of where we were when we all heard the news of our different father’s passings and then the conversation turned to onward and upward, Scott’s plans for the future and what’s next for him and then we did the same.

It took awhile for us to fix the display and get everything just right and then we stepped back to admire our work. The belt was now correctly wrapped twice around with a perfect knot but there were traces of green icing on the pants.

I said: “Oh know…..we could fix this……we could turn the pants around.”

Scott said:

“It’s okay. Really, it’s okay. My dad would understand. My dad wasn’t a perfectionist but he would get the job done. In fact this looks like something my dad would have done! It’s really okay. Thank you.”

Soon it was time to go as Don and I had a karate class to teach so we said our good bys to Mary and we didn’t mention to Mary about how we fixed the karate belt and the joy of sharing stories with Scott.

On the way home we spoke about impermanence and the appreciation of being alive right now and how wonderful it was to connect after all these years with Scott. 

j

On death and dying Part two:

Part two: On death and dying

My family owned a funeral  parlor in New Jersey. Funerals were family  reunions, just like weddings. I remember from a very young age the food and connecting with the relatives. Being Irish, we would eat, drink and be merry!

Don and I arrived early and signed the guest book and proceeded to the viewing room. I didn't know what to expect.

A few people had already arrived.

Mary was sitting in a big chair and called us over immediately. Hugs, soft words and then introductions to the brother and a few others. She was very happy to see us and introduce us as Ted's Sensei.

Country music and Snoop dog played and the upbeat, calming tunes, gave me a feeling that Ted was with us. A video showed photo images of a life lived.

I had just seen Ted a month or so ago and I couldn't bring myself to approached him laid out in a coffin holding a microphone, even though to me he looked healthy and as if he were just asleep.

Don however approached the coffin and stood reflectively, then he walked back to where I was, standing by the brother.

Don said:

"He looks so peaceful, but why the microphone?"

The brother replied:

"Ted was an avid Ham radio operator, his whole life he enjoyed it as a hobby".

We chatted for awhile and found out that Ted had died of a heart attack.

He went fast.

Ted's son, Scott the little guy was now a big guy 22 years old.

Scott flew in from Idaho for the week. He grew up tall and thin

and he was wearing a bright red sweater with the sleeves pushed

up to his elbows. He reminded me of me when my father died, eyes

welling up with a red nose and unable to hold back the tears.

I gave Scott a hug and so did Don.

Mary said, Scott take them into the other room and show them Ted's

memorabilia and then me and Don followed Scott into the other room.

On death and dying: Part one

A story in three parts by Judy Barnhart, 8^th degree blackbelt Shorin-Ryu Karate USA under the direction of Grand Master Ansei Ueshiro

On death and dying:

Part one:

The Invite to the Wake.

I can still smell the lilly’s and the roses. Must be on my clothing or in my hair. We attended a wake for a former karate student yesterday. His wife called me a week ago to let me know he had passed.

She said:

“Ted would have wanted you to know. He always spoke about you and Sensei Barnhart and he never forgot what you taught him. He use to practice his kata and the karate gave him a whole new life. Karate helped dramatically with his back problems even though his doctor told him no.”

I was shocked. It’s never easy to hear that someone you remembered as healthy and happy is dead.

I told her:

“I’m so sorry. Ted just stopped by last month with a few friends to show them his karate school and I gave them the grand tour. Oh no.”

We hadn’t seen Ted since 2002. He and his son Scott, who was ten at the time, trained in our dojo for about nearly two years.

Ted was a big man physically. He weighed at least 300 pounds and he stood around 6 foot tall. Aside from his appearance, Ted was easy to remember, as he was appreciative and respectful and had a big personality. Ted was someone who gave back to the dojo anyway he could. Ted was there for landscaping days, karate compai's, beach workouts and when we put a new roof on the Museum building next door, Ted was there to help. He gave us a day of his time to lean in and get the job done.

Even as big as he was, his kata reflected grace and precision. I don’t know why he stopped training but according to his wife, Mary, he never did stop the practice of his kata.

I told Mary we would be there on Wednesday at 3:00PM and we were.

To be continued.