and then, death

after writing in the wee hours of this morning, i received some deeply tragic news. it swiftly made all my worries about beginning to blog again seem entirely insubstantial. i had fretted about becoming one of those women who blathers on about her broken heart, or been concerned about opening this medium of communication and really only speaking for or to little trouble. i had been giving serious consideration to only using this space for 'professional' ponderings - focusing on the law and human rights and abandoning my musings on butterfly wings, trust, and other such gossamer things. and then, death.

in january, a wonderful legal expert came over to participate in one of our programs. he was truly a remarkable and brilliant individual - one of the world's leading experts on natural resource damage assessment (his technical background is in environmental toxicology and ecology), he was also an accomplished jazz pianist, a loving father, a traveler, a linguist, a cook. we connected in a way that i rarely do with our legal experts. in addition to delivering brilliant lectures for two environmental programs, we spoke of murakami and his fascination with subways, of art and the many ways to make a life. early in planning this program he had asked if his son, an art student who was interested in asian art, might accompany him on his trip to beijing and if we could help him find appropriate activities. i of course agreed and said i would do what i could to make sure his son had an enjoyable visit.

his son was named hart. he was bright, unfailingly polite, kind, and gracious. he had a great time exploring the beijing art world by day and met up with us in the evenings. i was impressed with his sense of adventure (he somehow managed to navigate his way to the art museum on a local bus), his warmth, this commitment to truly see things (sketching outside the confucious temple for hours in the bitter cold), and his perspective (his photographs and descriptions of his time at the 798 art district demonstrated he saw much more there than i did). on the last night of our program i had hart and his father and some of my colleagues over to my flat for a celebratory glass of champagne before dinner. i'd never invited a visiting legal expert over before, but it just felt natural with them. hart sent me a sweet thank you note not so long ago, saying that his visit was an incredible experience and that he was working on a whole series of drawings and paintings from his china adventure.

i learned this morning that he died unexpectedly the day he sent me that email. i almost couldn't believe the news as i read it. it was from a colleague of hart's father's - we had been working on developing a follow on project together and he was explaining that he had not been responsive because he had been dealing with a personal tragedy. my heart breaks for him and his family. and for hart. who still had so much to give. here is a brief piece on his death: http://www.dailycamera.com/obits/ci_14422312#axzz0gP0VaPiE

i am now trying to write a note to his father expressing the condolences of our office. but how do you find the hard, round words necessary to say anything meaningful in these circumstances? it is also always strange when the very real - death, love, blood - bursts the immaculate bubble of professional or academic life, where we are meant to function and interact as brains alone. but we never are. i actually recently had lunch with an impressive former law school professor of mine who i initially developed a connection with by my father's helping him locate hospice care for his father as he was dying. something so real, raw, and intimate we never spoke of it in person or in the law school hallways - only over email at night. this professor has gone on to do great things - win supreme court cases and such. but at lunch he still asked about my ba. it's these human connections that always matter more. and death always reminds us of how fleeting it all is. how it can all be undone in a second. and so we must love, while these moments are still called today. life’s short and we never have enough time for the hearts of those who travel the way with us. o, be swift to love! make haste to be kind. - henri-frederic amiel

i will make a donation in hart's memory. maybe live a little more daringly. try to discern the beauty everywhere a little more distinctly. discard my insubstantial worries - about this blog or otherwise. and love, love, love.