Edward J. Watson, Ted as we have always called him, came to his journey’s end on Friday October 3rd, 2014 at his home in Hancock, Maine at the age of 77.
Ted was a beautiful person, a loving husband and father, and a good friend. His diverse career spanned from entrepreneur, to theater, to bed and breakfast owner, to a successful executive in the computer software field. An accomplished pianist, his music brought many hours of joy to those around him. He loved to travel, was an avid chess player, enjoyed hiking, history and biographies, and was always up for a good game of billiards. Ted was not only a genuinely interesting person he was kind, caring, and empathetic. He was calm, thoughtful and was not judgmental of his fellow human beings. Because of these traits, when Ted gave advice one listened and heeded that advice. Many of us remember potential life mistakes that were averted due to the wisdom he shared with us.
While Ted has ended his stay on this earth, he will remain in our hearts. Ted will be remembered for his gifts of love, the sage advice he gave us, trips taken together to foreign lands, nights talking by the fire, his gentle smile and warm hugs, dinners shared over a glass of wine -- all these make up the stories that are now woven into the fabric of who we are: Saydean, his wife of 29 years, his children – Geoffrey Watson, Thomas Watson, Kim Zeldin, Nina Zeldin, and Mara Zeldin, and his grandchildren – Jack Watson, Maddie Watson, Nick Silvestrone, Jessica Silvestrone, and AdinTorres-Zeldin.
The Journey of Memories and Souls
by Mara Zeldin
On the last portion of your life journey, you did not pass quickly; like an ocean claims a sand castle - one that is grand and impressive with its unexpected rooms and intricacies - this disease claimed you cruelly one lap at a time, taking what was once whole and beautiful grain by grain until there was only some undistinguishable shape of what was.
Your physical-self hung back from death, like a ghost you haunted us with the promise of being close to you, yet you were not really there – only a whisper, a feeling of you. We could not mourn you while your ghost remained among the living. At times we missed you, yet your ghost would appear, rattling the chains that bound your soul here, disallowing us to recall who you were.
In your death you are free now – free to be what you once were, especially to us. With you ghost gone and no longer taunting us, the journey of souls begins.
We begin that journey with forgiveness.
We forgive you - we forgive you for haunting us, for stealing our memories of you as you guarded them with your physical husk. We forgive you for forgetting who we were. We forgive you for becoming sand.
We ask that you forgive us - for not always bearing the ghost you became. Forgive us for shouting at him, turning our backs, raging against his mournful cries. Forgive us for casting you out. Forgive us for forgetting at times who you were
At your passing, we gathered as families do at these times. We gathered and began to remember.
Your wife opens her home to your children, friends, shares food and wine and in the telling of your stories. With this you become.
Your son, with your dinosaur tie hung loosely around his neck, a pile of old books that you loved in hand, his smile warm, his own soul filling with the memories of you. With this you become.
It is in those memories - the fabric of souls – where the next journey begins for you and for us.
Now we stand, offering up your ashes to the ocean of the stars, our memories of you are the waves that this time are not thieves, but the builders of souls. Together we stargaze, tell the stories, all the memories of you enter us, fill us. In this you are.
This Journey Continues on
by Heather Burns
This journey has been
a learning experience
you have been an unforgettable treasure
Bringing light to a
warming my existence
none other can compare.
This journey has been
knowing you has been a
but now I must go on
Someday this journey
I too will search the
until I find you once