Embodying the Voice of Love
A tribute to Susan Osborn
“Beginning here I speak of love,
and its power to bridge the spaces
We create between each other with our minds
The illusion that we are not one
Is perpetuated by the importance we place
On our bodies as boundaries
When in truth
The energy that is me
Is inseparable from
The energy that is you
Ending here I speak of love
Beginning.” - Susan Osborn, age 24
Someone who changed my life in all the right ways has passed. She left on March 14, but I only learned of her departure today, May 13th at 10:03 pm EST, almost two months after the fact. That feels important for some reason.
I am in shock.
Susan and I had only recently reconnected after many years and two oceans separated us. We first met at a singing workshop she was offering in Japan where she helped me find and free my voice. You can read about that experience here:
One Voice: Healing the heart through song
Three decades later I happened upon her name on Facebook and reached out. It was clear she’d done some hard living during those 30 years and that life was still throwing curveballs her way. We talked about Japan, about her illness, about her life on Orcas, her husband’s work as a painter, and her desire to get the stories of her life out into the world. I said I would help.
Over the next few weeks we worked on setting up her Substack. She called it Riding the Big Wave Home, which I never really understood but it felt right. Each time we met, after we’d wrestled the latest Substack conundrum into submission, she would read me a poem. I’m very picky about the poetry I allow into my life but I found myself looking forward to hers. I especially enjoyed hearing her read them aloud. That voice - that melodious, modulated, one-of-a-kind voice - made the words sing. My favorite was about her hands. “Today I was studying my hand and saw and felt how beautiful it was,” she said when we met. “I wrote a poem about them. Can I read it to you?” Then she proceeded to make me cry over all the ways her hands allowed her to touch and experience life.
I am sitting here now at my computer, still trying to feel the world without her in it. It’s just after midnight, but I can’t bring myself to shut the computer down - to walk away. It’s as if by closing all the emails, DMs, recordings of our meetings, drafts of her posts, the poetry, photos, and links to songs we loved to share will make her passing, her death, real. There I’ve said it. Susan is dead and there is nothing I can do to change that - no way to reverse time so I can say good-bye. Our last correspondence was on January 1st. when we wished one another happy new year. On February 26th I sent her a messsage saying, Happy Birthday. She didn’t respond.
There’s no real way to convey the impact she had in my life, but I can share a memory of Susan that captures her very well. It was written by Bryan Benepe for The Islands’ Sounder. In his piece, Bryan describes the Christmas concert Susan gave every year for more than 25 years at the small chapel on Orcas island. Having been in her presence and felt what he describes, I can’t think of a better way to end this post. I hope you will read Bryan’s tribute, spend some time on her Substack, and download her music. Listen, read, and absorb the goodness that Susan was in the world.
“Susan is standing at the altar. She is resplendent. She could be an actual angel. A prophet. A mystic.
And she smiles. And though there is no fireplace or heat in the chapel, hearts are warmed.
When the first note arrives, it is so pure that there is a communal ache in the hearts as this wave of beauty washes over them. Some faces lift up, looking towards heaven. Other heads bow in a natural prayer that doesn’t depend on religion but on the simple faith that there is powerful goodness in the world, and they are in the presence of it.
Even under the heavy clothing that covers the arms, hair is standing on end. The hands of lovers intertwine. Children are not restless.
The music that flows from Susan is astonishing and yet comforting. It is being in the presence of genius that offers you a cup of hot cider with a stick of cinnamon to stir it.
This is the Christmas Concert in the Chapel in Victorian Valley. Susan will do this year after year for over twenty-five years. It will become historic.” - Bryan Benepe
More About Susan
From her husband, David Densmore: “I am aware that many of you out there in far flung places who were touched by Susan are mourning, remembering, and celebrating her in your own ways. I have curated a playlist, in essence a compilation album, of Susan's recordings dealing with death, and release. The playlist may be accessed on her website with liner notes and the individual songs may be downloaded for free. I hope 'Vespers' brings us together in the tent of song and proves useful, whoever you are mourning, now and in the uncertain future. Blessings. Oh yeah, bring kleenex.” - David Densmore
Vespers: https://www.susanosbornsings.com/vespers'Susan Osborn site: https://www.susanosbornsings.com/
Riding the Big Wave Home (Substack)
Remembering Susan: https://www.islandssounder.com/obituaries/remembering-susan-osborn/
The Islands’ Sounder: https://www.islandssounder.com/obituaries/susan-merri-osborn-densmore-passages/
Lovely 🥰
I am so sorry for the loss of your friend. It's never easy to lose those we love. 🧡💥