Farewell, my friend

Posted January 07, 2006

Wally's Resting Place

It's Saturday night. If we weren't out someplace on Saturday, Wally and I were usually here at my place, making food and working on stories and pictures he'd written and scanned over the course of the week for JoniMitchell.com. I'd edit them or do site design stuff as he occasionally looked over my shoulder: "Yes! That's great!" was always the desired comment, but we'd sometimes gripe at each other over a stubborn sentence or a picture that didn't look right until one of us gave in. It was fun. Saturdays just aren't the same.

It's been raw and rainy in San Francisco lately. What a surprise, then, when on Saturday the 19th we were able to sail out onto the bay with sunny 60-degree temperatures—the spectacular views that make this town famous soothed our sad little entourage and provided a tranquil scene for goodbyes. A full moon tonight, and Kilauren's birthday. He'd like that.

For a short time early on our ride (the cruise lasted a little more than an hour) everybody stayed at the back of the boat while I walked up in front. I talked with Wally for a few moments as we plied our way across the water, just making small talk like "Yeah, I know, you'd rather be home listening to the stereo than out on this boat," or "It turned out to be a nice day, didn't it?" and so on… when I started talking about the "I wish I didn't have to do this" and the "I'm sure going to miss you" stuff, I had some trouble keeping it together. I was very fortunate to be with a caring and sympathetic group of people.

We stopped in a quiet little cove just inside the Golden Gate and said (or thought) our farewells as I gently released the ashes of our pal into the calm bay water. As the ashes swirled about and disappeared, a few seagulls flew in close to the boat and circled overhead, as if to welcome him; the usually very vocal birds were completely silent. The only sounds were those of wind, waves and weeping.

One gull seemed particularly interested in the proceedings, hovering motionless for the whole time. Maybe this is just Jim doing what he needs to do to work through this, but I can't get that bird out of my head; I think Wally's spirit was visiting so he could have a look. I've been listening to the Song to a Seagull CD again and again these days—so free, so out of reach—now everytime I see a seagull I find myself thinking "Hi, is that you?"

Life is strange, sad and wonderful; the chaos of the last few months had subsided long enough for us to have a few peaceful final moments together.

A gathering at my house afterwards went well. Joni and her management company sent flowers, as did Reprise. We listened to a compilation of some of Wally's favorite Joni songs and passed around pictures, sharing memories as we talked and propped each other up. Sue McNamara assembled and sent a beautiful scrapbook of messages from JMDL members.

JoniMitchell.com reader and friend Winfried in Germany celebrates Wally's spirit

Wally really didn't want to leave, not when he was alive, not even after he died. I was cleaning house the day before the scattering in preparation for the gathering (a MAJOR project, given the fact that I've completely neglected everything but Wally-related and jm.com-related stuff for at least a month and a half) when I picked up the urn to move it and a big chunk of it broke through! It slipped from my hands and fell apart as it landed on the floor with a thud, a big cloud of dust rising into the air and a mountain of ashes now heaped on the floor next to the computer. Oh, horrors… now what do I do? This isn't listed in The Big Book of Household Hints! Apologizing profusely to the air and thinking about how somebody up there was probably getting a laugh out of my plight, I painstakingly picked everything out of the rug and put it into a plastic bag, although there was a little bit of dust left that I couldn't get to (so I suppose my vacuum cleaner is now inhabited).

The funeral home was kind enough to give me another urn, but as we left for the scattering on Saturday morning and I crossed the threshold of my front door, the bottom of the bag the funeral home had given me broke through and the urn headed to the ground. This time I caught it. My friend Andrew kiddingly admonished Wally: "No! Stop that! We have to go now!" Wally resisted all the way to the end. He always felt this was his second home. As a matter of fact, I feel his presence more strongly here than I do at his own place (possibly because this is where he spent his final days). He's been hanging out here for almost ten years.

This story wouldn't be complete without mentioning the huge impact made by the Internet Community. Since Wally went public with his condition, the site, always very active with e-mail, has received literally thousands of beautiful, heartfelt messages as people everywhere followed Wally's odyssey; the concern, compassion and love that came through this screen moved both Wally and me very deeply. All kinds of messages, some just a word or two, some many pages long, came in from around the world -- from Manhattan to a cloister of nuns in Tibet, and countless points in between. Suggestions to ease pain and help his condition, poems, pictures, even jokes. And expressions of gratitude, always expressions of gratitude.

Sometimes when it seems that the Web is becoming one big ad, I remember how well this experience demonstrates what a meaningful and powerful tool it can be. Wally and his site had a profound effect on many, and those generous people returned an enormous amount of comfort, support and appreciation to him in his darkest hours.

I've lost count of the times I've been reading messages and thought to myself "Oh,this is a really nice one, I have to put it up so everybody can read it." But there are just too many of them. I wanted to thank every single person who sent messages to Wally and me individually, but I'm afraid it's a job I'd never complete (at least not if I'm going to keep his legacy, this wonderful website, up and running). So, although doing so in this post might be a clumsy and inadequate way to go about it, please accept my humble thanks for everything -- for the kind words and support for Wally, for the support and condolences many of you have given me as I worked through this with him and attempt to move on -- everything. We love you all.

jj

P.S. Wally wouldn't like it if this site became centered more around him than it was around Joni, but since the interest in and response to his story have been so big I'll do one more post, about Wally's journey with JoniMitchell.com and about the site's future, soon.