Author's note:
Elegy to Mary Azevedo, with warm regards to Margrit Mondavi, Julie Prince, Carissa Mondavi, Laureen Betts, and Kim Malley - June 2005
...Julie.....Carissa
Laureen and Kim
And Margrit's words
Addressing Jim
The day a dreary
..One...of June
Its moment...an even
....Greater...gloom
Of death...without
A doubt...expected
...Still..the mind
Outright rejected
The oddity...of
God's will to give
Then snatch away
That right to live
Much.....we fail
....To understand
Yet...clear...the role
Of the fellowman
....An intense glow
Amidst the gloom
...Soothed the soul
That day....in June
...When oxymoron
Lost its meaning
...As joyful sorrow's
Songs were singing
Of Julie....Carissa
...Laureen and Kim
And Margrit's words
..Addressing....Jim
Author's note:
The assignment; Pickup Margrit Mondavi at Robert Mondavi Winery, and drive to late afternoon appointment:
Arriving onsite some minutes ahead of scheduled departure, I reclined in the limo, seizing the opportunity to unwind a bit from the rigors of an earlier excursion into San Francisco. Alerted by distant voices, I looked up to see Mrs. Mondavi approaching accompanied by an entourage of four co-workers. Exiting the vehicle, I acknowleged their presence, and exchanged a bit of light banter with a member of the group. Immediately thereafter Margrit addressed me saying, 'Jim I have some bad news. Mary (Mary Azevedo, Robert Mondavi's Adminstrative Assistant) passed away this morning.' I recall closing my eyes, bitting my lip, struggling to maintain composure - sinking ever deeper into the widening abyss of excruciating grief. But just as quickly sensed an oxymoronic relief buoyed by the quintessential gift of friendship exemplified by the presence of these compassionate folks who in their collective wisdom chose to stand with me in spiritual solidarity during this challenging ordeal they surmised would be one of my most difficult. Often I visit that overcast day, still I see them all approaching, that portrait ever more celestial than before. Some years ago, I composed the poem 'Margrit's Words Addressing Jim, ' as a note of appreciation, thanking these special folks whose sensitivity helped transform a moment of paralytic anguish into the luxurious grandeur of consummate bliss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem