Our dear Jane passed away on Friday, December 2nd with her daughter Clare at her side and gently crossed over in peace and joy. As many of you know, she greatly anticipated the next life and was ready to go. Her gallant last months with us were a revelation. One of her last acts was to send her final Christmas letter to all of you, and your beautiful replies filled the last week of her life.
There will be more information from the family and a memorial service sometime after the holidays so we can give Jane the big sendoff she deserves. Till then, please feel free to use this site to send your condolences (by adding comments) and to share your memories of Jane. We are unable to respond to emails right now, but we will be reading your messages with thanks for all you meant in Jane’s remarkable life.
Until we are together: Please say for Jane the words she said to Clark when he passed away: Rest in joy! And may I add: Well done, Jane! Godspeed!
Jane’s daughter KD Burnett
Friday, December 2, 2011
Jane Emery's 2011 Christmas Letter
November 27, 2011
Dear FAMILY, Dear FRIENDS,
The great expanding silver star, the jewel in the fireworks treasury, is bursting before you, representing the joys of Christmas and the many gifts you give me year-round.
But our dark griefs do not diminish in this light, as seasonal cheer tries to make us
believe. They retreat into a central privacy for the rest of our lives. Their secret darkness makes the brightness of Life’s Gifts brighter when they come. And I have many such gifts to report.
Adara Belle, daughter of Johnelle and Nicholas Burnett, granddaughter of Clint and Kay, great-granddaughter of Jane, was born in Austin, Texas, on November 25, 2011, 19 3/4 inches and 7 pounds.
Celebration of Thanksgiving was all the greater as Julia from New York, David and Clare from Tahoe were with me.
And we will dance at the wedding of Jane Elizabeth Renaud (David and Clare’s
daughter) and Thomas Hunter Nelson at the Umlauf Sculpture Garden in Austin, Texas, on June 9, 2012.
At present, I am in routine hospice care, which is far more delightful than it sounds.
Making a reservation to cross the River Styx and missing the boat is a little embarrassing.
But meanwhile, I am getting wonderful care. Dear granddaughter Alice has just spent
three days with me. Son Tabor’s visit was wonderfully healing. Nana was joyfully here a week. Kay’s visit was another happy dance. Clare is a steady-goer, supporting every project.
Telephone calls, roses, raspberry sorbet, and classical music can make me feel like a
queen. I have good news for you. I believe what Walt Whitman has said that “to die is easier than anyone supposed and luckier.” I am in pain only rarely, and look at all the fun I am talking about. Still writing some poetry and stories. Still conducting the Book Club. Still thankful for every moment of life.
We are sadly surrounded by black, unforgiving political words, blocking us from
promise. Perhaps we can break through next year. My wise friend Michael McCaffry
says, “Ideology kills.”
I look forward to your responses and shall surely answer them. All you do, and all you are to me, supports me, minute to minute.
Christmas Joy to all,
Love,
Jane
Row, Row, Row Your Boat
(at 93)
Well, I don’t really row much any more.
The current is swifter now.
I use my oars as rudders to keep a steady course
Toward the Open Sea, beyond.
The long voyage never seemed a dream:
Though many views were dazzling,
The rocks and rapids were real enough.
But I was lucky, for there were always fellow voyagers
To help with the struggling portages
Around the deathly falls.
Now, the sun smiles almost every day
Upon the peaceful fields and homes along the bank.
People wave at me from balconies and bridges,
And I can hear the faint thunder of the surf
And see the light above the Great Sea, ahead.
Dear FAMILY, Dear FRIENDS,
The great expanding silver star, the jewel in the fireworks treasury, is bursting before you, representing the joys of Christmas and the many gifts you give me year-round.
But our dark griefs do not diminish in this light, as seasonal cheer tries to make us
believe. They retreat into a central privacy for the rest of our lives. Their secret darkness makes the brightness of Life’s Gifts brighter when they come. And I have many such gifts to report.
Adara Belle, daughter of Johnelle and Nicholas Burnett, granddaughter of Clint and Kay, great-granddaughter of Jane, was born in Austin, Texas, on November 25, 2011, 19 3/4 inches and 7 pounds.
Celebration of Thanksgiving was all the greater as Julia from New York, David and Clare from Tahoe were with me.
And we will dance at the wedding of Jane Elizabeth Renaud (David and Clare’s
daughter) and Thomas Hunter Nelson at the Umlauf Sculpture Garden in Austin, Texas, on June 9, 2012.
At present, I am in routine hospice care, which is far more delightful than it sounds.
Making a reservation to cross the River Styx and missing the boat is a little embarrassing.
But meanwhile, I am getting wonderful care. Dear granddaughter Alice has just spent
three days with me. Son Tabor’s visit was wonderfully healing. Nana was joyfully here a week. Kay’s visit was another happy dance. Clare is a steady-goer, supporting every project.
Telephone calls, roses, raspberry sorbet, and classical music can make me feel like a
queen. I have good news for you. I believe what Walt Whitman has said that “to die is easier than anyone supposed and luckier.” I am in pain only rarely, and look at all the fun I am talking about. Still writing some poetry and stories. Still conducting the Book Club. Still thankful for every moment of life.
We are sadly surrounded by black, unforgiving political words, blocking us from
promise. Perhaps we can break through next year. My wise friend Michael McCaffry
says, “Ideology kills.”
I look forward to your responses and shall surely answer them. All you do, and all you are to me, supports me, minute to minute.
Christmas Joy to all,
Love,
Jane
Row, Row, Row Your Boat
(at 93)
Well, I don’t really row much any more.
The current is swifter now.
I use my oars as rudders to keep a steady course
Toward the Open Sea, beyond.
The long voyage never seemed a dream:
Though many views were dazzling,
The rocks and rapids were real enough.
But I was lucky, for there were always fellow voyagers
To help with the struggling portages
Around the deathly falls.
Now, the sun smiles almost every day
Upon the peaceful fields and homes along the bank.
People wave at me from balconies and bridges,
And I can hear the faint thunder of the surf
And see the light above the Great Sea, ahead.
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