Losing Hatoon: Part II
We went wearing black, but only enough that our sneakers and jeans wouldn't be conspicuous. This is Eugene, after all, and though my roommate and I were attending the memorial of a campus "legend," we knew she wasn't the type who would request or require formality. In tribute to Hatoon, who always had her lips on, I wore the brightest, reddest lipstick I own. On the way out the door, I grabbed a the funny peach rose I'd picked up the other day.
I wanted to feel something, sadness perhaps, or mourning, but instead I felt the same as I'd felt all week... numb, confused, and preoccupied by the death of this woman who I only knew in passing and whose presence was no more than a ghost in my life. I think I'm still struggling to find meaning in Hatoon's death; something apart from my guilt for never having spoken to her.
And I do wish I hadn't just passed her by. From the stories I heard today, mostly told by aging hippies who knew her in the 60's, 70's and 80's, when she was still partially lucid, I could have learned a lot from Hatoon. Hatoon helped even the younger generation find themselves. And that was what she wanted, wasn't it? A girl from Blue Heron Bicycles spoke, shuddering from nerves and grief, to a crowd somehow both bigger and smaller than I expected. She, among others, told us about Hatoon's "research," her paranoid project to protect the children of the world and cure all diseases so that only perfect babies would be born and people could live together.
Hatoon's biggest obstacle was her own pain, not her mental illness or her homelessness. From what I understand, she chose to live outside the bookstore, and in return was embraced by members of the University community in times of need. And she was "crazy," but mostly in a joyous way. Hatoon had the kind of insanity that one gets from stepping too close to the fire and falling in. The kind that makes you wonder who's really insane... the "crazy" one or society.
No one confirmed Hatoon's diagnosis as schizophrenia, MPD, drugs, or a combination of the three. People mostly shared stories and tried to ignore the vulgar shouts of another girl (the one I mentioned in the previous entrie's comments) teetering similarly on the verge of social instability. (Also not sure what this girl's deal is, but she does have a problem.) There was a lot of laughter and a few tears on a beautiful day that would have made Hatoon happy.
But perhaps she was there.
As the ceremony opened, from nowhere, a brown and white speckled hawk swooped overhead, fifteen feet above the audience, to settle in the branches of a large oak tree. After looking on from above, it disappeared, only to return exactly as the ceremony was closing, again circling overhead unusually close and again settling in the same tree. The gasps were audible; some people pointed, others burst into tears. I stood still, transfixed, with goosebumps rising on my skin. It was perhaps the most auspicious thing I have ever seen.
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