Dana Redfield (1944-2007)
Long-time Hampton Roads author and sometime Hampton Roads employee Dana Redfield died Saturday, April 14, 2007. She was a true free spirit, a deeply spiritual person, a writer of great talent and a great joy as a friend.
These few pictures, taken when a couple of friends and I visited her at her home in Utah in 2005, express Dana the Westerner, which was an important part of her identity. She loved and understood the west, particularly the desert, and never could adjust living in the east, even Charlottesville.
Dana and me sharing some joke
Dana with our friend Rich, mugging for the camera
Dana with our friend Stephen, surrounded by wilderness (and a few other tourists)
Dana as I remember her: Pensive and thoughtful in the midst of so many mysteries of this world and the next world.
My last phone conversation with her took place a couple of days before she died. She knew for some months that she was dying, and was at peace with the fact: Like so many of us, she had spent much of her life somewhat looking forward to it, and was not afraid when she saw it finally coming. She and I had never had to tip-toe around the subject of death and we had no fear about life on the other side, and so we hadn’t had to tip-toe around the fact that she was in the process of dying. Our last conversation had as many laughs as ever.
She did tell me one thing that I think worth sharing even among those who did not know her.
She was in the hospital, her physical condition worsening daily. Her vital organs were failing and it was clear that she hadn’t long to live. On a conscious level there was all that awareness of loss, of giving up the things of life one by one: her health, her freedom of action, her ability to get around outside her house, her ability to walk without a cane, without a walker. Finally she had lost the ability to walk, and her world had been swiftly reduced to a wheelchair, and then to a hospital bed.
But she told me, in that final conversation, that when she had wakened that morning she was unable to remember the specifics of what had happened while she was asleep, but she woke up remembering a feeling of exhilaration. We both knew what it meant: The part of her that lived outside of time and space was reassuring her that everything was fine and that the long hard trip would soon be over. And perhaps she was getting a foretaste of the delight soon to come.
April 16th, 2007 at 8:23 am
Frank,
I’m sorry not that your friend died but that you will miss sharing bits of your days to come with her. Your experience in that recent conversation is very similar to mine with Jane – I was sure she’d been previewing life on the Other Side when she exclaimed, “It’s so beautiful.”
Thanks for sharing this intimate moment.
Bob
April 16th, 2007 at 9:59 am
A lovely testimonial Frank; I only knew a little of her work, but was definitely touched by it. Now I feel as though I knew her. It’s a very special experience to be close to the dying; the energetics of the transition are spread, virus-like, by sharing, and the more we allow this to happen the closer we come to the triumph of knowing that place where the Light illuminates without shadow.
gp
April 16th, 2007 at 12:40 pm
I enjoyed reading Dana’s books and am sorry there will be no more. I know you will miss your friend Frank however you know that she is just a breath away and that she is now Home. Thank you for sharing your last conversation with her.
Marilyn
April 17th, 2007 at 6:08 pm
I loved Dana’s work and her courage to look beyond. What a trooper she be in this life and beyond. She is probally shaking of eithers as we speak, still doing her ‘job’. Verna Bacon
April 21st, 2007 at 12:04 am
Dear Mr. DeMarco,
I am so sorry to hear about your dear friend. I offer you the deepest of condolences from the bottom of my heart. Last year, I had a similiar experience with a friend 3 months before she passed. Suddenly, she had an intuitive urging and said, “I want to spend more time with you. It’s very important.” She was not sure why, but something within her knew. The last 3 months we spent together, we talked about the guardian angels around her, and the presence of other loved ones she felt close by. When she crossed over, I was very sad, praying for her soul, but actually, she was the one who was okay. During my studying, I felt her standing behind me, her light beautiful and bright, and she smiled, radiating unconditional love. I was the one who needed her prays and light, and reassurance telling me she lived on, but in another state of consciousness. I sensed from her that by living my life to its fullest, doing the very best I could, in spite of obstacles, it made her happy, because I was happy. You heart will heal, I promise.
Take care of yourself and God Bless You,
Naomi
April 22nd, 2007 at 6:01 am
Naomi, you misconstrue my feelings. No condolences are needed, nor healing. Would you send condolences to the friends or relatives of one who has moved on to the beautiful country? Would you say their hearts needed healing? It was a very nice feature of Dana’s passing that, since neither she nor I was afraid of death, we could discuss it and even laugh about incidents on the way toward it, without all that dread and pain that so many people bring to it.
Nonetheless I appreciate your kind intent.