A Memory

Service for Lori Bonatakis

July 12, 2008

Thank you all for coming today.  I’m Kate Donaghue, a friend of Lori’s.  I’ve never conducted a Memorial Service before.   I’m counting on all of you to help with this service.  

Every one of you is here because Lori meant something to you, she touched your life in some way.  Some may not have met Lori, but knew her only through her writing.  Lori Bonatakis was with us for 49 years, before her life ended unexpectedly.  She leaves her beloved daughter Kristina and her Aunt Mart and many other friends and relatives.  She was a neighbor to Judy and others. She was passionate and caring.   She was an animal lover and an activist. She was a writer.  She worked her whole life to further her ideals. She brought people together.  To me and so many others she was a faithful friend.  

Our being here today to remember Lori and celebrate her life is a reflection of the lives she touched, how this world is better for Lori’s having been here.  It is good that we come together to support each other, to share the grief, and to pay tribute to Lori, and to celebrate this life lived well.  

Brian Corwin, “Doc” as Lori always called him, will read a remembrance from Lori’s friend Maya, who could not be with us.  

Maya’s essay, read by Doc…

From Maya:

She was the friend who said “I’m on my way over” when a dog was sick and the friend who said “please come” when a cat was dying. She was the friend who hefted the load when help was needed and she was the friend who didn’t often enough say “I need help” when the shoe was on the other foot.  She was the woman who didn’t pick up the phone when she wanted to rid her backyard of a concrete slab but, instead, picked up a jackhammer.  She was the most delicate but vibrant of petals on the orchids she delighted in and the toughest of stems who supported and nourished her friends and family.  She was the excited child who called with amazement to say she’d seen an albino deer in her yard and the fierce mother-tiger when she saw wrongs that needed to be righted. She was the mother with boundless love and pride in her daughter and the niece who adored her “Mart-Mart.”  She was the rarity who was as easy with her tears as with her uproarious laughter.  She was the wounded who had been let down by the country she fought to better and she was the victor in her tireless battle to engage and empower others in the cause.  

Lori, my dear friend, you will always be held in the embrace of the many you graced with your love.

Kate’s opening of the “memories” part of the service…

I have so many memories.  We met through a shared interest in Howard Dean’s candidacy.  When we moved onto different campaigns, we stayed in touch.   We got in the habit of talking every Friday.  She’d answer the phone not by saying Hello like other people.  Lori was never like other people, she’d answer the phone saying “It’s Friday!”   We’d talk about everything, Kristina and Ray, Maya in North Carolina, her animals and Doc, the other activists in Western Mass.  We’d talk about Blue Mass Group.  Who was writing about what.   We talked politics.  And we laughed. One of my favorite Lori stories happened after the State Convention in 2006.  She and Susan stopped at a restaurant.  Well Lori hit another car.  Lori being Lori, ended up having dinner with the gentleman whose car she hit.  She and Susan were excited about Deval Patrick and ended up persuading their new found friend to make a significant donation to the campaign.  A year later he and his wife came out visit for Lori’s labor day party.  And he is here today at this service.  Only Lori!    

I hope that you have been thinking about Lori, remembering your time together, maybe how you met.  Now I’d like to ask for your words, your stories, your memories of Lori that you might like to share, what you learned from her, what you will miss about her.

A number of people spoke.  Michael Wilcox, Saul Finestone, Doc Corwin, Judy Schwartz, Bill Stiles, Aldon and Kim Hynes, Jill from Longmeadow.

Michael’s remarks

Lori. I could tell a hundred stories about Lori.

Some of them are political; many more of them are personal. She was a dear friend, and she was there whenever I needed her.

Instead of telling any of my stories, though, I thought I would share with you a passage from Shakespeare that somehow speaks to me of Lori.

I thought I knew Lori pretty well. I accept that she had her reasons for ending her life the way she did. I accept that she died the way she wanted to. So, I’m trying to accept what happened, even though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand it all.  I don’t think I will ever be able to get inside her head.

So, maybe this passage, that I am about to read you, comes, for me, the closest to understanding her as I can get. There are a couple of other reasons that this passage is

special for me.  One is simply that it has always been one of my favorite passages in all of Shakespeare, for whatever reason.  Another is that, one day, much to my surprise, my father quoted it to me from memory. He was 80 years old, and he lay dying in a nursing home. He knew the end was near.

We had never discussed this quotation before.  He could not have known it was one of my favorites. Nor was I aware that he knew it by heart.

So, in honor of my father, whose death left a huge hole in my heart; and to honor Lori, whom I will miss so very, very much, let me set the stage (as it were) for you, and then read the words I love from the play, Macbeth.

This scene occurs near the very end of the play, when Macbeth’s world is crumbling around him, and his enemies are closing in on him.  As will be obvious, this passage occurs after Lady Macbeth’s famous soliloquy, in which she wrings her hands, and utters,

“Out, damned spot! out, I say!” because she cannot seem to wash the blood from her hands.

As an aside, I always wanted to have a dog named Spot, so that I could open the door, point outside, and say, “Out, damned Spot!” But I digress.

As Macbeth realizes that, for him, the end is near, an aide comes to him and says, “The queen, my lord, is dead.”

Shakespeare is ambiguous about how she died; whether she took her own life or simply died of natural causes. As for Lori, it really doesn’t matter.

When Macbeth heard the news, this was his response:

She should have died hereafter;

There would have been a time for such a word.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

To the last syllable of recorded time,

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

Macbeth, speaking of Lady Macbeth’s death,

in Act 5, Scene V

Kate’s comments, addressing Lori’s decision

When someone we know and love ends her own life, we are stunned – because of the suddenness of the loss that we weren’t expecting, and because of the way in which it happened. It is natural for us to think ‘could I have prevented it, were there clues I missed, was there something I could have done to change this?’  It is important to remember that Lori knew that we would have been there for her.  She was a determined person and made decisions.  We weren’t going to change that decision.  In her own way she is now at peace.  

I welcome anyone who wants to speak about how Lori left us or for more about her life.

At some point Deb Sirotkin Butler read her poem.

Today in Paradise

That day did not fe
el like I was in paradise

But looking at the pictures of that day

I can smell the sunshine, hear her laughter

see her with 7 mega pixel clarity.

The waters of death, floating so many I loved;

On that outgoing tide

To hopefully return, riding the great waves

Onto the beaches of a different paradise, guided

by the flames of many white candles.

I was in paradise that summer day

But I did not know …

Today too will be paradise

In my memory

And will never return

.

Kristina addressed the group…

Lori was regular writer on a blog called Blue Mass Group.  Lori posted this last summer.  It says volumes about her passion..

WE ARE ALL RESPONSIBLE For what happens in our government.  It’s simple.  If we ignore, we get what we deserve.

That is why I’ve worked my butt off for thirty some odd years.  I volunteer.  I don’t want to get paid for what I do.  It’s my responsibility to my child, my neighbors, my fellow activists, my community, my state, my country to be proactive in making change happen.  It’s hard work.

At times, I’ve come close to giving up.  I read bloggers who vent, scream, rant and rave and have all the solutions on how to fix problems.  The ones who scream the loudest or are the most verbose amuse me to no end.  I try to have a sense of humor about it all.  

I’ve been told many times that getting involved in politics is stupid.  It’s dirty and you should be afraid to get involved.  Volunteers are used and abused.  You get nothing out of it.

Well, I don’t care.  If being involved is all those things, then it’s about time to change the perception and make it better.  Maybe the volunteer experience can be made into a positive so that people aren’t afraid to get involved.  Maybe if people are encouraged and thanked, more people will become active.  Maybe if more people are active, change will happen at a faster pace.  

Those were Lori’s words.  

Kate’s closing remarks… A year ago Lori convinced me to make a donation to her candidate for president, Mike Gravel.  I made sure that my contribution was low enough to not hit the FEC reports! I remember Lori laughing when I told her that she had been nominated to be “on air” on a proposed Blue Mass Group radio lineup.  Her role, co-host of the program, “Candidates You’ve Never Heard of.”  I think they gave her the 3 AM to 4 AM time slot.  How she laughed!  I will always remember her laughter!  When she was frustrated or angry, I’d try to make her laugh.  It was just too easy.  I’d say, “Made you laugh!” I will always remember her laughter!  

With time, may you feel Lori’s presence in new ways, in the memories you hold and the time you shared, and the ways you are different because of knowing her.  Pat Carney will share a poem as we close this service with a ceremonial remembrance of Lori.

Pat Carney’s closing.

We, all of us here, Lori’s family and friends, came here today to be in communion with each other, and to say goodbye to our dear, dear friend.  

It was a conscious decision to make this coming together a celebration of Lori’s life.

Sometimes, at the conclusion of a celebration, there is a final gesture; some would call it a ceremony that is used to complete the communion of family and friends.

Together, Lori’s beloved daughter Kristina and her dear friend Kate thought about a way to do this today.  

There are bottles of bubbles on each table.  The act of sending these bubbles into the universe is symbolic of our farewell to Lori.  

Of course, Lori would have preferred the kind of bubbles we drink, rather than the kind we blow into the wind, so remember that the next time you are drinking good champagne.  

These words I am going to read as you share the bubbles  are cobbled together from a couple of different sources.  In the spirit of true communion, there are not enough bottles to go around, so you will have to share! As you share the final communion of this gathering, listen and use them as you need.  

A bubble floats by us like a sunbeam

And for a brief moment its glory

and beauty belong to our world

But then it is gone

And though we wish it could have stayed…

We feel lucky to have seen it.

Lori–Without limit, without form–;

Your spirit, like these bubbles that rise into the sky, is now free.

We celebrate your new freedom.