to June

I can remember the first time I spoke to you. It was the day before I was to move in. I listened to all of your questions, laughing in my head. (No I'm not a drug addict! ha ha) You were so worried and so concerned. Then we finally met and became good friends. I learned about your very colorful life and all you'd done. You told me one day that you'd decided to adopt me and my family since you didn't have one.

You were a strong woman. One who made thoughtful decisions and was caring to others. You gave so much of yourself to everyone you knew. There were times that we would talk and I had to stop myself from laughing at all of your worries; what was going on with the economy and how you wanted to give Greenspan a piece of your mind; how the 'sub-blime' mortgages were ruining everything; how you hoped that 'O-bam-ma' wouldn't get in.

You always had something clever and witty to say. I loved how we would just joke and laugh, even till the end. I always enjoyed all the times we would go out for lunch and dinner. You would wear fancy jewelry and lipstick, even to Baker's Square.

I remember once that you asked me why God was doing this to you, what did you do to deserve it. I don't know that I will ever have an answer, but I think we get a choice June, a choice to give up or a choice to fight it out. You didn't want to go and true to form you weren't going to go without a fight.

I'm glad that you are at peace and not suffering anymore. I'm glad that you got to see Maxi one last time and I know you were comforted by his presence. You will be with Henry and Ginny now. Rest well dear friend. All my love.

Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul--and the lamb, the soul,
in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change's fierce hunger--hair
and teeth--and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin,
braintricked Implacability.

Ai! ai! we do worse! We are in a fix! And you're out, Death let you out,
Death had the Mercy, you're done with your century, done with
God, done with the path thru it--Done with yourself at last--Pure
--Back to the Babe dark before your Father, before us all--before the
world--

There, rest. No more suffering for you. I know where you've gone, it's good.

Allen Ginsberg