Aug
15
The Singer
August 15, 2008 | by: Cindy Claveau | 1 CommentSometimes our lives are blessed by knowing that rare person who can see through our problems, feel our hurt and understand us without even seeming to try. It’s as if they have a natural gift for seeing into us and knowing. They tend to show up unannounced, surprising us with the quick and deep connection they forge.
Montserrat Snakeankle was that kind of a person. I met her in 2005 at a roundtable discussion when she worked for the old SL Herald, and I remember being enchanted by her intelligence and humor right away. We were instant friends and continued to share our lives with each other through the medium of Second Life, almost to the moment when she was no longer with us.
Montie passed away last Friday, Aug. 8, 2008, of heart failure.
When last I spoke with her, she was her usual worried, intense self. Always immersing herself in wondering about the future, needing to feel loved and needing to share the bottomless love she carried within her and over time it had become my job – one I embraced with care and love – to calm her and counsel her and assure her that she was loved and always would be.
It wasn’t all one way, however. She gave back to me things on which I can put no value. One thing in particular happened when I found myself falling in love with someone unexpectedly, against my better judgment, complicating my complex life and simultaneously enthralling me and frightening me.
Montie told me that, in every life, there comes a Singer – someone who she said “sings to your blood”. When a Singer finds us, it’s a rare thing and something to be cherished and embraced because we don’t know how long they will stay or whether they will ever come again.
I took her advice and embarked on a journey with my Singer that touched me more deeply than anything I can remember. The memories of that journey are enshrined in my heart forever, even today after that journey has long ago ended. What I failed to see, however, was that Montie was a Singer too. And today, as much as I know I loved her and adored her wit and brilliance and intensity, I’m afraid I never told her that. And that may be my biggest regret today as I remember who Montserrat Snakeankle really was. I should have let her know how much she meant to me.
Her name will remain on my friends list, forever grey. I am proud to see it there. I cannot send her any more messages and expect an answer, but if I could I would tell her: “Montie, thank you for the gifts you gave me. Thank you for insiring me and brightening my life. But most of all, thank you for being a Singer to me.”
In an interview she gave back in 2005, she named William B. Yeats as one of her favorite poets. In memory of my dear beloved Montie, I offer this, from “The Countess Cathleen in Paradise”:
ALL the heavy days are over;
Leave the body’s coloured pride
Underneath the grass and clover,
With the feet laid side by side.
One with her are mirth and duty;
Bear the gold-embroidered dress,
For she needs not her sad beauty,
To the scented oaken press.
Hers the kiss of Mother Mary,
The long hair is on her face;
Still she goes with footsteps wary
Full of earth’s old timid grace.
‘Mong the feet of angels seven
Her white feet go glimmering;
All the heavens bow down to Heaven,
Flame on flame, and wing on wing
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