| 01/03/10 08:31 PM |
#123
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Linda Fagan (Chanler)
We gathered in Paris on the Red River on Saturday, Jan. 2nd to set our friend Becky Jo free to float the river. I thought some of you might like to read what Michael, her dear love of 13 years, wrote about the day. It was a beautiful day indeed. We will miss you Becky.
......
January 2, Saturday, 2010
It was a bright new day, white with streaming wisps of winter clouds moving within the blue sky... and as the day progressed to high noon we drove into Paris, Texas,,, barely late considering the time spent traveling from Austin. The small crowd of faithful were waiting at the Church (Becky's brother John, his paramour Debbie, Dickey Amos, Pat Crabtree, his three sisters, Betsy, Priscilla, Roma and their 3 kids... Linda Chanler, Becky's son Adam, Blair and their little girl Rachel; an 8th generation Texan I should think). Everyone exchanged howdy's and hugs in a calm and jovial way, the nature of a Parisite, and mounted their vehicles for the 20 minute trip to "The Red".
When we arrived, we found a gate barring access to the river's bank. We were only mildly surprised to see Dickey had arranged to have keys... he's the president of the bank you know... so we were able to drive down the sandy path to a most serene and beautiful spot right on the river's edge. It had rained earlier in the week but the sand could bare my wedge heals and the water had gone cool blue/green. I got solid on the rim and turned to see Adam. His steps were deliberate, careful... slow motion walking down the raise with her in his hands.
It was her all right. A breeze blew over me, played Hell with my composure. I was shocked in the tenderest way though... to see Adam, head bent as he held her body's essence close... as a father might hold a newborn child.
*****
I don't remember what I said. Something about this not being your average ceremony, something about ancestors... and our desire to live on the
Red someday... but careful not to open the window too far, I just played a tune on my clarinet, warm low register notes that lingered for a moment then dove straight into the water.
Adam beckoned me over, we bent down together and he said, "Your body's free Mom.... and now so is your soul" and we spilled her into the waters
edge... embraced; he was the Father.
It was a golden yellow afternoon now, and she was picked up by the currents, like a streaming wisp of winter clouds , moving within the blue/green water, bobbing with the current, the heart beat of the channel... under an ancient train trestle and... finally... out of sight.
Her brother John said, "She'll be in the gulf by morning."
Another said, " Never be anyone like Becky Jo."
I smiled at that... and cried for myself.
Becky Jo Biard
1951-2009
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