rest in peace

My friend Lillian Robinson died about ten days ago. My best friend died. The person on this earth I owe the most to after my mother, the person who had more to do with the formation of my consciousness as an adult than anyone else, who taught me such Yiddish and Yinglish phrases – those flying buttresses to expressiveness and sanity – as I know, who taught me the usefulness of class analysis and reinforced the usefulness of looking things up, who was on the short list of people who challenged me to be the best poet I could be, the person who gave me my best approximation of the experience of parenthood, who may have saved me in some sense by suggesting I go back to school, and then helped make it possible to do so – those I suppose are as close as I can come for now to describing her place in my life.

I was able to visit Lillian for about ten days when she was in palliative care and knew herself to be terminal, and to reconnect with her family, including her son (I lived with Lillian and Alex for five years as the other adult in the household after the breakup of her marriage to Alex’s father, and with Lillian for a few months after that before I resettled in the Bay Area). Since her death I’ve been helping her family – my second family – with making announcements to her wide network, and with memorial activities. This is the first moment I’ve taken to reflect in writing – almost the first moment I’ve taken to reflect – on what her loss means to me. And beyond the bare bones that I’ve given you above, I don’t know what to say.

You will find on Lillian’s memorial page a number of links to appreciations of her life, as well as to photos showing some of her vitality and to a video from her last recorded public appearance, which suggests some of her strengths as explainer and exhorter, as analyst, activist, and teacher. I suppose I will be able to write more one of these days, but for now I just wanted to let those of you fortunate enough to have known her have this brief summary of what she meant to me, and to give the rest of you a brief introduction to an extraordinary and all too short life.

Little children, love one another.

M.