Miss Tee

My initial path with Tee began as so many of us when faced with her unbridled bravado and creative genius. Her sensual exhibits uncovered beauty in the life where I was hiding in the early 80’s.

A couple of decades later I joined her writing class at her invitation when I was hitting at brick wall in confidence and she was in need of support during Beverly’s dying process. We shared many late night talks and both enjoyed the quality of the new trusted friendship that was evolving.

After being gone for three months last winter, I first saw her in the hospital. Through the golden glow of her skin, I saw her exude warmth towards her gathering community, her pervasive and persistent focus on teaching, and I heard her genuine desire to live her dying openly. It’s no surprise that our sensual lesbian pied piper would continue to face the new issue thrust into her awareness with the same bold honesty in which she had faced life.

I also became more in tune with her fears and gradually touched on ways to walk into them with her. A couple days before she died, I thanked her for letting me in. As always she returned that gratitude by thanking me for being willing to come in.

She was a mentor for generosity with her appreciation, love and material life. She often interrupted canasta games to thank everyone at the table just for being there.

There had been times that she began to fear that the community was wearing down. And there were times we were tired or had to be elsewhere, but there was never a fleeting moment of diminished loving juices cascading from Poppy Seed when I arrived to yet another incredible woman and sometimes two, cooking a luscious meal. Their hugs, joy and caring concern followed Tee’s delight at everyone’s arrival. There was seldom an evening when she didn’t have me sit down to tell her about my day. Poor Dear heard lots about my grand kids.

Genuine delight seemed to explode out of her even from an apparent deep sleep whenever the phone would ring or door would open. It was a gift to me to absorb her enthusiasm for so many and varied friends and students. She was artful at seeing the best in everyone. She also knew that turning her irritations into understanding was best for her health and for the community. I know she died feeling at peace in the flowing matrix of her complex life.

As her active time diminished she was a quick study on grasping the essence of her final project—to be guilt free about resting quietly by just being. During her last weeks, she would beam with the ease of comfort in gazing out the window.

I roughly estimated that I played well over a hundred games of canasta with her. She was amazingly transfixed in another world while contemplating the cards, listening to us sing show tunes and engaging in the remarkably divergent topics at the table. There were times during discussions about her prognosis, when she would abruptly end it with ‘let’s play canasta’. Most everyone knew it was her most endearing and effective distraction.

I watched her struggle to stay upright on several evenings to finish a game. And often the kick she’d get out of a good play made by either team or especially drawing the fourth red three would propel her on to ask to play one more hand. During her last hospital stay, I was sitting beside her bed. She appeared to be in a deep sleep, when her right hand suddenly rose directly up towards the ceiling and with the flick of her wrist she said, ‘red three’. She took a couple more quiet breaths, opened her eyes, looked at me and said ‘wasn’t that amazing!’ as we both laughed.

I loved Tee for the human being that she was to me. Her flaws and fears, which I believe drove her to teach others creative outlets, her privacy, humor, devotion, courage, determination and even her proper manner that must have been a bit of a contradiction for her as the sign above her door read: Well behaved women rarely make history.

She thrived on the community that surrounded her with love. I felt the overflow of compassionate willingness and will always be touched by the beautiful connections being here in her life has offered me.

She made an impression on my family as well. My granddaughter was with me when I took something to Tee in the hospital. Kiana stayed in the lounge area at the end of the hall. Tee asked if she could go meet Kiana. Tee and Tangren had an encounter with her while I went back to Tee’s room. My impression was that my shy grand daughter had not made much of a connection. But that afternoon, when she and I picked up my grandson, Kiana greeted him enthusiastically with, ‘I got to meet Tee.’ In his routine cadence Bryson interrupted with a blast of the experience of his day. Kiana waited for a break to finish her remarks with a tender response, ‘she was nice.’

The day before she died, I asked Tee if she would be okay with me hanging out at Poppy seed to be present for her needs after she died. She smiled and softly said, ‘I’d like that.’ Here today I know we all come with varying beliefs. I’d like to ask us all to continue giving attention in our own way to directing her on. She often stated she hoped she’d come back with similar talents and skills in her next life. That would be a special fortune to wish for her.

Her last statement before she closed her eyes and became quiet was ‘It’s ALL been so wonderful.’ And none of us will forget that because it was.

Yeah, Tee was nice all right, and it was even more than wonderful for me.

This entry was posted on Thursday, September 28th, 2006 at 11:33 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.