Book of Life & Legacy

Compiled by Spirit of Resh Foundation

The Book of Life & Legacy
Is Produced by the Spirit of Resh Foundation
We use story to build the awareness that our relationship with death influences how we choose to live.

www.ReshFoundation.org
©2016 Spirit of Resh Foundation

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The Book
of
Life
and
Legacy
Compiled by
Spirit of Resh Foundation

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Cover Photo Credits:

Gratitude to FTT Design, of Grants Pass, whose Tree of Life sculpture is the base
of our cover image. These artists, Diana and Frank, may be found at Farmer’s
Markets throughout the Rogue Valley of Southern Oregon where Spirit of Resh
Foundation makes its home. You may contact them at [email protected]

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Dedication

In honor of the ancestors; may they always be remembered.

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Table of Contents

Introduction ………………………………………………………………………………………………….. 9
In honor of ...

Susan Brown …………………………………………………………………………………………10
Frances Tanchy Vierra ………………………………………………………………………….. 14
Mason Myers ………………………………………………………………………………………..18
Margie Myers ………………………………………………………………………………………. 22
Cynthia Kopp ……………………………………………………………………………………….26
Susan Jones …………………………………………………………………………………………. 30
Closing …………………………………………………………………………………………………………...32

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Introduction

Since ancient times people have gathered around a central hearth—kitchens, living rooms, town meetings,
memorials—to listen to stories which reveal where we come from and how we are bound to one another. Every
culture or community, and every family or group of friends has its unique stories, told over and over with laughter
and tears. These stories form the very foundation of our being, helping us discover, ever more deeply, who we are.
The Book of Life and Legacy is a memorial filled with stories that do just that—show us what really matters and pro-
vide a path to remembering who we truly are.

There is a phrase, in Judaism: Their spirits live on in the hearts and memories of those who still cherish their names.
This is legacy—stories passed from generation to generation—keeping the values and mores of departed ancestors
vital and alive. The Book of Life and Legacy is an expression of that phrase, for all of us.

Dedicated to stories of loved ones, The Book of Life and Legacy is intended to honor ancestors of all shapes, sizes,
cultures and histories, connecting all of us in a shared experience of loss. These stories are reminders that while we
are alive we are creating a legacy every day. By every choice we make and every action we take we are passing on
the stories that matter to us, thus creating and re-creating our own story born from the love of those we carry in our
hearts.

As we gather around the virtual hearth to read these sacred stories, the Spirit of Resh Board of Directors and I hope
that each story brings smiles or tears, helping us remember the oneness that underlies our humanity.

Love and loss often walk hand-in-hand, showing us the great privilege it is to be alive and able to carry forth the
legacies we have been given.

May these stories of life and legacy be an inspiration to you and a reminder to live fully in each precious moment.
With deep gratitude for each story and each person who has courageously shared stories of their dearest beloved’s,…

Lily, Founder & Director, Spirit of Resh Foundation

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In honor of Susan Brown

We shared mostly just love...

Susan is the sister of my best friend Alex. As we first
were really becoming friends I was launching my love
of photography and was ever-present with a camera.
Susan disliked having her picture taken back then and I
had to sneak around to get pictures from the side or
back. When finally I got one from the front; she’s look-
ing at me like, “I’ve been very tolerant of you but we’re
done here.” That picture always makes me laugh and
laugh.

What Sue and I shared was mostly just love. I love her, I
love her dog, Jake, I love her son, David, I love her
sister, Alex.

Alex posted on Facebook after Susan’s death, “David,
your mom was an amazing woman who did many
extraordinary things in her life, but none of them
compared to you. She was so proud of you, and loved
you so much”

She loved us all.

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I will always cherish...

I will always cherish the gift Susan sent me at Christmas in 2015. Alt-
hough she had not really expressed herself through drawing in the
past, she would sketch the world outside her window as a way to
pass the time. She sketched horses, Jake (her dog), her cat, a visiting
heron and her son, David.
I treasure the sketches I received that year. It was the last time we
were in contact before she died. She told me then she wasn’t an art-
ist.
Don’t believe it. She was an artist.

From Marnie: Susan and I shared passions for music, the movie Dirty Dancing and a deep love

for each other. She was an incredibly strong, beautiful, funny, vital woman who suffered for years at the
mercy of a disease unrecognized by the established medical community. Her strength and bravery in
the face of that are a testament to her beauty and extraordinary life. Her life and death woke me to the
silent pain that so many people live with. Perhaps more people can start to understand, and fight for, the need for
funding and recognition because of the impact Susan had in their lives.

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Love is the connective tissue
between all of life

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In honor of Frances Tanchy Vierra

I think of my Mom as…

...a cross between Edith Bunker and Lucille Ball. Like
Edith she was happy and kind-hearted, and could al-
ways find the good in people and make them feel
good about themselves.

When she encountered mean-spirited people she
would always say we should Kill ‘em with kindness. And
like Lucy she was smart, but sometimes came across as
clueless and goofy. She loved music and dancing, often
enticing us—and later her grandchildren—to come
dance with her.

One time, on her first trip to visit me in my new home
in Colorado, we were sitting on the back porch so she
could smoke her cigarettes. As we sat there gazing up
at the stars and listening to the quiet night. I pointed
to the sky and said, Look, Mom, you can even see Ori-
on.

In an instant she jumped up and ran into the house.
Perplexed, and catching up with her I asked, What ‘s
wrong!? And without hesitation she exclaimed, I can't
believe you want me to smoke out there with a lion!

I really don't know how on earth she got Orion mixed
up with a lion, but she did, and it always makes me
laugh when I remember that moment.

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I think about...

In the last 8 years of her life, Mom did not like to go out
much and didn’t really want nice clothes. But, she loved pa-
jamas!

Well, if she likes pajamas, then that’s what we’ll do!

I started buying her really nice, really beautiful pajamas and
lounge wear. The few times she did go out, she loved wear-
ing her fancy lingerie and thought no one noticed that she
was actually wearing pajamas!

It just made us smile and love her all the more!

From Deborah (Vierra) D’Octavio:

My mom was diagnosed with congestive heart failure in March of 2010 and made the decision to enter into
hospice that October, ensuring that she died with dignity at home surrounded by those who loved her. I was
honored that she allowed me to take care of her during her final weeks and was happy I could move to be with
her in Sacramento for those for last 5 weeks.

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Mother trees connect
the whole forest,

passing messages of wisdom
to the next generation...

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In honor of Mason Myers

I always loved how...

Dad was a family guy. Everyone knew he loved parties and danc-
ing, and traveling with his sweetheart, my mom. He always made
time for his Three Girls, though. Sunday afternoons, we cozied up
with him in his easy chair to watch the game; baseball in summer;
football in winter. Such a presence he was. I always felt so
peaceful, and protected, and loved.

In my elementary years I remember going on dad dates. These
were excursions without mom or younger sisters. We often went
to the zoo, which I loved, but I particularly remember going to
Loch Raven Reservoir to hike in the woods around the water and
enjoy the wild nature around us. Dad loved the natural world. I
have this picture in my mind of a particular spot where the land
jutted out into the water like a peninsula. We imagined that it was
ours as we slopped around in the mud.

Our relationship changed over the years. Of course teenagers
push the envelope; young adults always know what’s ‘right’ and
like many families we drove each other crazy.

Still, underlying all that entanglement of growing up and living a
life different from his, is my recognition of his big heart and
absolute love for me and all his Girls He died nearly 10 years ago,
and that warm love, peace and protection is with me still.

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I remember when...

In his later years, dad struggled with Parkinson’s and slowly over time lost
more and more of his independence. First he shuffled, then he experienced
that Parkinson’s ‘freeze’. He resisted a wheelchair because, as he often said,
if he didn’t use it he would, lose it. He persevered even though it would have
been so much easier to collapse into a walker or wheelchair.
Dad began to lose lung capacity due to lack of exercise and it was very
difficult to hear him. But he could sing, boy could he sing! He sang any-
where anytime, and the big band songs were his favorite. We could barely
hear him speak, but we could hear him singing in the next room.
One day I was driving him to one of his numerous doctor appointments. He
was talking but I couldn’t hear him. Exasperated, I exclaimed, Sing it dad!,
and sure enough he belted out the directions to some tune in his head.
We laughed and laughed together as we barreled down the road.

From Sally Myers Long:

My father was a passionate, vibrant, happy, goofy, headstrong, creative man. From practical jokes to Halloween costumes,
holiday parties to graduation reunions, he was master of ceremonies, life of the party, producer, director and chief bottle washer.
That’s my dad, my go-to guy and my cheerleader always.

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Life is precious
This moment is all we have

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In honor of Margie Myers

Itching for adventure...

... and always a little ahead of her time Margie was labeled a ‘tom-boy’ as a
child because flying down the street on a bicycle with your feet on the
handlebars and your arms outstretched was not for ladies. And hitchhiking,
something she frequently did as a teenager, was also not for timid girls.

She carried that fearlessness into our lives.

Unlike most folks we knew, Mom loved the snow and was undaunted about
driving in it. When all others were huddled in their homes, she merrily drove
around town picking up our friends for a day of snow play.

I remember waking up one winter morning to a soundless white blanket of
snow and, not getting word from her that schools were closed, I halfheartedly
got up, dressed and slogged to the bus stop. Standing in the cold wet snow
waiting for the school bus I noticed no other kids were there. Finally the lady
across the street yelled, No school today honey! Aiy! We teased her about
that for years.

One of the best things about Mom, though, was her unselfconscious, big
open mouth laugh. When she laughed, we laughed more, then she would
laugh more and eventually tears started down her face and, not
infrequently, she would beeline it to the bathroom.

And she could be serious too. I was curious about God as a child and she
explained that God is everywhere, in everything and even inside me. After
hearing that I would intently lie on my bed trying to feel God inside of me.

Her simple explanation helped me form a view of the Divine that is with me
to this day.

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I remember when...

Around her 80th birthday we recognized that Mom was struggling with dementia.
After my father and her beloved husband of 60+ years, died, it became more
evident. Eventually she lost the capacity to walk, feed herself and talk. Ultimately
she did not know who I was. I was resigned to this, but she was my mom!
During our visits I would sometimes give her hand or foot massages, we’d sing
old Girl Scout songs, and we’d laugh over nothing because it made her happy.
Once, at dinner, the staff were playing name games. They asked her name and
she mumbled Marjorie. I asked if she knew my name, resulting in a blank look.
I’m Sally. She looked again, and her face lit with pure joy and recognition as she
reached over and gave me a hug Oh SALLY!
For that one instant she was my Mom and she knew I was her daughter. It was
gone in seconds and never returned. I will always remember and treasure that
heart to heart moment.

From Sally Myers Long:

.I didn’t always appreciate who my mother was, I as grew older, and certainly now, I think of her often and smile when I
notice the parts of her that I carry … try something new, be brave, be kind, create beauty. And, no matter what…always, always
wear earrings!

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There was a moment
when I knew I was bigger than the trauma.

Now I trust that a whole new story
is waiting for me.

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In honor of Cynthia Kopp

I loveabwohuatthCeyrnsetlhf.i.a. said

I have sculpted no marble, carved no stone.
Nothing splendid speaks for me.

I have a song or two, some stories, one recipe, three good
friends, several shelves of books, brown eyes, a passion for

piano, a way with children.
I know the first lines of a hundred poems, the chorus of

fifty barroom rags.
I can misquote two hundred writers, smile when I don't

want to, cry when I must.
I am given to unwarranted opinions, spiteful jealousies,

hopeless ideals.
I trust myself to pick flowers, cherish laughter, burn the

roast.
I can promise hesitance, guarantee ambivalence, pray for

grace. I can tell you of my love.

I cannot guess its worth.

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I remember when...

Cynthia and I shared a fanaticism for sports, particularly baseball, and
particularly the Oakland A's. The 1989 World Series between Oakland and San
Francisco was going to be an epic victory for the underdog city. We both left
work early and settled in the living room in front of our 100-pound television to
watch the game. Just as it began, the room started shaking and the giant TV
bouncing. Cynthia saw it happening and literally dove across the room as the
TV fell from its stand, rolling onto her back as she cradled the enormous box to
her breast. It was one of the greatest athletic feats I have ever seen! We
wrestled the television back onto its stand and were alarmed to only get static.
Cynthia leaned out our second story window and shouted into the street, Can
anyone get the game!?

It wasn't until a friend came to the door looking for shelter that we realized
we had just experienced the Loma Prieta Earthquake!

From Seth Kaplan: Cynthia was a remarkable person, who loved life. Though her life was short, it was full of

adventure. I have so many images and phrases that remind me of her, but one that particularly strikes me now is Don't Die
Wondering. Few have lived who possessed a greater commitment to truth or sense of right and wrong, although her standards were
truly her own. She had a burning passion for underdogs; young, smart women; Latino culture; and anyone with a big heart. Cynthia
didn't want people to know she was dying because she saw it as a sign of weakness.

She would have been shocked to know 300 people came to her memorial service to tell stories and pay their respects.

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Respect for all life creates vital,
healthy communities.

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In honor of Susan Jones

I first met her...

...when she showed up at a hat sale I was hosting in my little
apartment in Lawrence, Kansas. I thought her exuberance
was a bit over the top as she exclaimed how wonderful, how
incredible, how amazing my hats were. True, But did she
really need to go on and on...and on?

Later I realized that she was just that way. Anything could
send her into paroxysms of ecstasy: a super juicy, freshly
picked autumn apple, a chat about the meaning of life with
a Wal-Mart employee (and she knew all of them by name!),
or the color of a blouse I was wearing. There was a reason
for all that passion.

She’d died during a car accident, was revived, and woke up
royally pissed to find herself still in a body. She had touched
the infinite and saw this earthly plane as a giant cosmic joke.
A joke she took seriously, laughing out loud, belly shaking,
head tossed back. Yet committed to returning to that infinite
space, she repeated often, One day I’m just going to
disappear. You wait and see; don’t be surprised!!

Susan, married and divorced five times had always lived life
fully, chewing it up in giant chunks. Her hallway was
plastered with photographs of every single person she had
ever loved. Hundred’s of people hung there, beaming as
she introduced each one to me (yes, each husband was
there!) Passion always...about everything.

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I remember when...

...she pointed her finger in my face and said, Are you meditating?? Are
you? You have to meditate! Every Day! Do it, Lynnie, do it!
How could I forget this? She did it often. And with Spot, her trusty and
equally exuberant pit bull/boxer mix staring up at me, ready to hump my
leg at any moment, I agreed to meditate immediately.
She’d light a stick of incense and stick it into the tiny Buddha on the
mantle and together we’d sit on cushions on the floor and quiet our
minds. I imagined her revisiting the place she’d touched when she was
dead and she reminded me that separating my mind from the everyday,
mundane world would make me a much happier person. She was right.

From Lily Lynn Myers Kaplan: I so deeply treasure the brief time I had with Susan just when I really

needed her. Twenty years my senior, she was more than a best friend...she was a mentor who helped shape me into the
passionate woman I am today. At just fifty-two, she did what she’d promised. She stopped answering her phone, then was
found, keys still in the front door lock, lying down in her hallway, peacefully resting among the faces of all those she’d loved and
who’d loved her. They said it was a brain aneurism, but I like to imagine that she’d decided that, finally, the time was right to dis-
appear. She returned to the infinite she’d touched and brought into her every day. Susan’s admonition to meditate is with me
still, along with her laughter. Nearly twenty years after her death, her tiny Buddha lives in my vegetable garden—smiling softly.

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May the names of all the beings in the universe,
including those whom we can no longer touch,

but who have touched our hearts and lives,
and including our own selves,
live within that Source.

May its mystery live within
each one of us.

From The Mourner’s Kaddish,
a Jewish Renewal Movement Translation

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...and they changed Sherry Kliegman
me forever.
Dave constantly blew me away with his courage and
tenacity. I learned from him that there is a way that you
can live with your circumstances and be gracious and
kind and loving and happy and positive.
Dave lived with cancer rather than defining himself
as dying from cancer for all the years he was sick.

He was alive and present with people, showing up for
life completely.

I will always cherish his last New Year's Day at our
meditation center. I never thought Dave would be able
to come. But here he was with his portable oxygen tank
and his notebook – fully ready to participate in the
program.

He gave our community a great gift that day; he made
himself available for us all to say goodbye to him, to do
closure, to laugh, to cry and to tell him how much we
will miss him.

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It is up to each of us to make the
most of the circumstances we are

given by life.

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Stories of INSPIRATION Casey Akard
(continued)
Casey Akard
He taught me that no one completes us.
When I was nine, Lois became my Aunt Lois. It was just as if I’d We are each already whole and our
welcomed a friend that had been away for awhile. That’s how partner is just the spice to our love.
easily we bonded. She was genuinely interested in my life and
when she listened, she really listened. Lois was inquisitive and Individually, Dave and Lo each set an
her conversations were intriguing, her openness was refreshing example for me as person. Together,
and it was easy to grow close with her. they set an example for me as a partner.

As different as every one of us is, Lois found a common bond
with each of the Akard family members., yet our common
interests with her were just a way for us to relate, enabling us to
grow closer and become a bigger part of each other's lives.

Uncle Dave and I have always had a strong connection that
goes beyond this world. As we mourned Lois together, we were
also coming to terms with the fact that Dave would be leaving
us soon. With the two of us no smiles were ever faked, and
nothing was ever really sugar-coated. Lois had taught us to
give the real answer, because she would have gotten it out of
us anyway! I realized something in these moments with Dave I
will never ‘settle’ in a relationship. If I can’t have the love and
peace that Aunt Lois and Uncle David had, them I’m better off
walking alone.

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Dave Akard was an Charlie Love
amazing role model for
I have seen many people angry at God when bad things
me, showing me a happen to them but not Dave.
gracious way to walk
Over the years, I watched as cancer slowly consumed his
this life journey body yet he remained firm in his constant enthusiasm
for the practices. At the Guru Gita on Sunday mornings. I
would know that he was in the midst of a challenging
chemo sequence, yet there he was. When I asked, “Why
aren’t you at home resting?,” he would simply touch his
heart and respond with "I could not, not come". I
respect this unwavering devotion as I heard this on so
many Sundays for so many years.

A week before Dave passed, there was a chant at his
home. When I walked in the room, I felt very little life
force in him. As several of us gathered, and began to
chant, Dave rose to sit on the edge of the bed. Even with
lungs consumed with cancer, he was in the lead group.
Dave Akard was an amazing role model for me, showing
me a gracious way to walk this life journey. When I get
too much into my life drama, I pull Dave’s , memory up
and shift my perspective back to the TRUTH!

Dave, thank you from the deepest part of my heart.

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Trusting in the connection between
that which is seen and unseen
transforms fear into love.

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Stories of SPIRIT They began to know
that they were
Ellen Zucker the peace,
not the disease.
Lois and Dave helped each other to make peace with their
circumstances. They didn’t like it when people said, "Oh you 42
pooooor thing, what a horrible disease!" They slowly learned it
was more healing to accept what they couldn't change and
came to see their cancer as a gift. A gift that showed them the
precious fragility of life. A gift that opened their hearts to love
more deeply. They were in the grips of a relentless debilitating
disease that each struggled to accept, and I feel both Lo and
Dave did make peace with their life shattering conditions. Their
non-resistance with "what is" was a very real aspect of their
spiritual unfolding. That is not to say that each time another
round of bad news confronted them, there wasn't sadness,
tears, and despair. But their acceptance muscles grew stronger
and they trusted in something larger than their stories. They felt
that they were more than these struggling bodies and that life
was more than the outcome of each procedure. Lois knew love
was the answer. To simply be with what is, to sink deeper into
that silent awareness that was ever present in these harrowing
episodes, they began to know that they were the peace, not the
disease.

I stood gazing at a face Phillip Riffe
that had looked
One day when Lois' time here was drawing to a close, I
across the threshold called Dave to ask if I could come see her. He said he
into the next world...I felt thought it would be a good time.

transparent. I walked into her room, expecting to be confronted with
a sickly, haggard visage. Instead, I found myself looking
Her eyes saw right into the eyes of wisdom. These were Lois' features, but
through me. this was the face of an archetype, of a goddess.

I stood gazing at a face that had looked across the
threshold into the next world, one that was dwelling for
the most part in that next world, and was now for a few
minutes back in this space of ephemeral forms.

I felt awestruck in her presence, ashamed of my puny
self. I stood by her bed, gazing at her, almost unable to
breathe. Dave laughed and took my hand and laid it on
hers. We talked for a couple minutes. I felt transparent.
Her eyes saw right through me. I knew that I would
never see her again.

I told her that I loved her.

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May the names of all the beings in the universe,
including those whom we can no longer touch,

but who have touched our hearts and lives,
and including our own selves,
live within that Source.

May its mystery live within
each one of us.

From The Mourner’s Kaddish,
a Jewish Renewal Movement Translation

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