Photo by Mark HolmTribune

Tribune

During his lifetime, Wes Vincent explored Christianity, Druidism, Wicca and Buddhism. The First Unitarian Church in Albuquerque, with its backdrop of multiple religious symbols, seemed a natural choice for his Aug. 5 memorial service.

Photo by Mark HolmTribune

Tribune

Mitch Rubin, longtime partner of Wes Vincent, releases helium balloons with messages attached during a memorial service for Vincent at the First Unitarian Church in Albuquerque. Vincent, 50, died of liver cancer July 10. "Wes explicitly said he didn't want a memorial service, but we didn't do it for him; we did it for us," said Rubin of the decision to hold the Aug. 5 ceremony.

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Saying goodbye can be difficult. This is a hard column to write, since it's the last of these Matchings, Hatchings and Dispatchings features. It is fitting to end with a memorial service.

My brother's partner of 11 1/2 years, Wesley Vincent, owner of the Blue Eagle Book Shoppe, passed away at the age of 50 on July 10 from liver cancer. He died within three weeks of the diagnosis.

"Wes explicitly said he didn't want a memorial service, but we didn't do it for him; we did it for us," said my brother, Mitch Rubin.

Indeed, memorial services are for those who live on after a loved one dies. They help to close a chapter in life, to make a transition from mourning to recovery.

A meeting to plan the memorial service took place four days after Vincent's death. Mitch had several elements he wanted to include - a tribute of photos set to music, stories from selected close friends representing different aspects of Vincent's life, and a launch of 100 balloons, so that those who were unable to say goodbye to Vincent in person could send their thoughts up en masse. Friends who helped Vincent through home hospice volunteered to recite poems and prayers.

Picking a space to remember a man whose livelihood provided resources for spiritual seekers of all types and paths could have been a challenge. During his lifetime, Vincent had been a Christian, a Druid, a Wiccan and a Buddhist. The First Unitarian Church, with its backdrop of multiple religious symbols, seemed a natural choice.

"Lots of people like to have memorial services here, as well as weddings," said church administrator Trish Colombo. "We can bring together different denominations and religions, and everyone feels comfortable."

Being organized after a loved one dies can be a challenge, but making a list and checking it twice helps get everything done without missing any details. We created a checklist of items to bring to the event that included tissues, Mardi Gras beads (recognizing Vincent's love of New Orleans), a guest sign-in book, a tribute DVD, napkins and music CDs. Friends asked what they could contribute and, to keep it simple, were told to bring cookies and bottled water for the reception.

Every effective life cycle event incorporates laughter and tears, especially at funerals and memorial services. Sometimes, the laughter comes at unexpected moments.

Connie Nowak read "The Prayer of St. Francis" from a beautiful plaque Vincent kept throughout his life.

"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light. . . ."

She was interrupted by Mitch Rubin's cell phone, blaring the ring tone version of "Ain't Nobody Loves Me Better" by Chaka Khan. Laughter erupted. Embarrassed, he fumbled with the phone and turned it off.

Connie continued the prayer: "Where there is sadness, joy." The crowd laughed again and applauded. There was a feeling that Vincent had just interjected himself into the service from the great beyond.

Childhood friend Tom Meyer spoke of Vincent as an alchemist of people who helped individuals find their inner selves, remove the dross and turn lead into gold. Jesse Coyote spoke of Vincent's involvement with the Celtic Kiva Coven and Vincent's adoption of the blue eagle as his shamanic symbol.

I spoke of Vincent's welcome presence in our family, and how he would be missed. Before the service started, my dad had leaned over and whispered, "Please let everyone know that we considered Wes to be our son, too."

"I know," I replied. "It's already in my notes."

Diane Polasky, a doctor of Oriental medicine who treated Vincent weekly for almost three years, spoke deeply fascinating and moving words. She is also a Druid and Spirit Walker who accompanies the dying to the other side.

As she sat by his side before he died, Polasky experienced the two of them standing in a cavernous tunnel, a soft light silhouetting people watching them at a distance. She saw Vincent start to shift between the worlds. Then, as if his memory banks were emptying, kaleidoscopic images of his life's experiences filled the cavern.

From the distant group, Jackie Littlejohn, a psychic reader at the Blue Eagle Book Shoppe who died of breast cancer five years earlier, came forth. She was bright, proud and tall, with a smile on her face and a raven on her shoulder. Vincent relaxed as he saw her.

But he tensed up when his mother, who gave Vincent up to foster care, moved toward him. He was initially angry, but as words were exchanged, he understood everything and they hugged and made peace.

Vincent began to glow from deep inside, and as pieces of his body fell away, he became a moving body of radiant light. Vincent asked Polasky if she wanted to go with him.

"Ah, my friends, for those of you who have never experienced this, to attempt to describe what it is to touch that light - the embodiment of pure love - and not want to go is pure anguish. But I just touched his hand and told him it wasn't my time, but I'd stand with him," she said.

Vincent said to Polasky before he crossed over, "Tell my friends and those who love me to remember that life is what we make it, that every disappointment is just another opportunity to travel a different route, that judging another person mirrors your own insecurity, and you better get over it because that's what will bring you down. The present moment is really all we have, and you better make the most of it. And love, truly loving unconditionally, is all that really matters in life."

How many people can have their words passed to the living from beyond this world? Perhaps Vincent knew there would be a memorial service, despite his statement that he didn't want one.

To end the service, participants sent Vincent their parting thoughts and prayers on notes tied to 100 white balloons. Spirits rose as the balloons floated into the sky. Perhaps, like them, when our time comes, we can just as gracefully merge into the great beyond.