Message from Cynthia and Henry

Dearest Family and Friends near and far --

Henry, Lydia and I want to extend our deepest thanks and gratitude to all of you who have held us in your love and care through out these past seven months as we walked our journey with Harry.

Of the many gifts and blessings we received through this journey with Harry, one of the most profound and the one for which I (Cynthia) am deeply grateful was the gift of community. I have so truly learned that we are never alone, we are surrounded by love, and we are all so deeply connected. Thank you all for giving us that gift. We thank Harry too, for without this experience with him, we might never have received such a profound teaching in this life.

Over the past month, we have been slowly decompressing and trying to start to make some sense of Harry's all-too-brief, beautiful, joyful, painful, and intense life. Henry and I know that we need to find the narrative of Harry's life that allows us to treasure the good, honour the beautiful and joyful, understand the pain, and find a place to hold the loss without slipping into the negative or letting it overcome us.

If I may be so indulgent, I hope to continue to use the blog as a place to sort out my understanding of our experience with Harry on his journey of healing. We also hope to post more information about the "Harry Venema Memorial Fun Fund". As well, we have learned a great deal, especially in the last month of Harry's life, about complimentary natural healing approaches to treating cancer, which we would like to share with as many people as possible.

Love, light and blessings,
Cynthia

Cynthia read the following two poems at Harry's cremation service in Aubrey Park:

Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

-- Robert Frost

Do Not Stand By My Grave and Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there -- I did not die.

-- Mary Elizabeth Frye