Margrit's Words....Addressing Jim
Arriving onsite some minutes ahead of scheduled departure, I reclined in the limo, seizing the moment 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 one of the group. 'Jim said Margrit, 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 demonstrated in the personage of these compassionate folks who in their collective wisdom chose to stand with me in spiritual solidarity during the challenging experience they surmised would be one of my most difficult. Often I visit that overcast day, and still I see them all approaching, their presence ever more celestial than before. Some years ago, I composed the poem 'Margrit's Words Addressing Jim, ' as a note of appreciation, thanking these precious folks whose very existence helped transform a period of paralytic anguish into the luxurious grandeur of consummate bliss.