Rosmarie Myrtle Larson, 1961-2008

"Life as it is? I've lived for over 40 years, and I've seen life as it is. Pain, misery, cruelty beyond belief. I've heard all the voices of God's noblest creatures, and moans from bundles of filth in the streets. I've been a soldier, and a slave. I've seen my comrades fall in battle or die more slowly under the lash in Africa. I've held them at the last moment. These were men who saw life as it is, but they died despairing. No glory, no brave last words, only their eyes, filled with confusion, questioning why. I do not think they were asking why they were dying, but why they had ever lived.
When life itself seems lunatic who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical may be madness, to surrender dreams, this may be madness--to seek treasure where there is only trash. Too much sanity may be madness! But the maddest of all is to see life as it is, and not as it should be!"
From The Man of La Mancha as portrayed by Peter O'Toole.

This blog is being created in memory of my best friend, Rosmarie Myrtle Larson, called Muff by her family and friends because of her lack of prowess in the kitchen. Muff's brother BJ called me in the morning on March 29, to tell me Muff had died earlier that morning, quite unexpectedly. They had her taken in for an autopsy with the state medical examiner, who happens to be a good friend of my high school friend Roger Blakesley, but they've not heard anything yet as the definitive cause of death. Muff's sister Kath, who had taken her to the doctor the day before she died, said the doctors told her she was doing well with her CPAP machine helping her recover from sleep apnea, and taking Metforin for her diabetes. She emailed me three weeks ago to say she was busy helping her mother recover from a broken hip, but that all was well and she'd be calling me soon. I never heard from her again.
The quote from Man of La Mancha was Muff's favorite quote from a musical theater piece, and I'd recorded the short monologue onto the end of her CD copy of Cyrano, the 70s musical version of the beloved tale of Cyrano De Bergerac, starring the incomparable Christopher Plummer, whom Muff and I both adored from frequent viewings of The Sound of Music at Clarke College. We both believed strongly in seeing life as it should be, and making our own worlds, our own realities, as close to our dreams as possible.
Muff was a dreamer, a Catholic who truly believed, a brilliant student, a bibliophile and a tireless humanitarian. She touched, healed and helped many people during her short 46 years on this earth. She wrote to troops in Iraq every day, she supported a child in a third world country through monthly contributions and holiday gifts, Muff drove her mother to chemotherapy while she was battling breast cancer. Muff taught me that there was a vast difference between monetary poverty and the poverty of the mind, heart and spirit. She had 6 brothers and 1 sister growing up, and because her father and stepfather weren't available, she'd known what it means to go hungry. But she never, ever lacked for richness of heart and spirit. Her love of reading and books transported her to places far and wide, while her deep love of her siblings grounded her and kept her moving forward. She was particularly enamored of her four younger brothers because she believed that she'd helped to raise them and they'd helped her grow as a person as well, instilling in her a lifelong love of children. BJ was the nearest to her in age, and she often spoke of his quiet ways and itchy feet that lead him off to an adventure at least once a year. BJ attended Clarke for a brief time, and I remember him as a romantic skinny kid with a poetic heart and a sharp mind. Several young women in the drama dept carried torches for BJ. Now he's grown into a handsome, compassionate man who is a caretaker of the elderly. Muff would tell me often how BJ would clean her abode and cook for her and take care of organizing her life as well. Michael has grown from a blonde lad with an artistic bent to a tall, gorgeous man whose graphic novels and graphic arts training have lead him to create wonderful novels and illustrations for his mothers childrens books. Bear's childhood photo on Muffs wall in our dorm room at Clarke revealed an angelic face with more than a touch of mischief about it. He's now a good-looking burly man who, as an electrician, plumber and mechanic can fix almost anything set before him. Danny, the youngest, was a dramatic child who used to wrap towels around his shoulders as a cape and pretend to be a singing/dancing/acting crimefighter. Muff had a special place in her heart for Danny, because of his creativity and whimsy. He's now a lithe and beautiful man with twinkling blue eyes who dances, sings and acts, and shared with Muff his love of all things Dark Shadows. Kath, who looks like a Dresden doll with her Nordic beauty, has become a wise woman and head sibling of the Parks Larson Clan over the years (due in part to the death of their eldest sibling Rick several years ago) and she now has two grown children, plus an adorable grandchild, Ethan, whom Muff loved. Bears two daughters, Emma and Bria look like little cherubim angels, just like their father, and Muff used to send me photos of them, along with emails regailing me with adoring anecdotes. Her bright brother David is the family intellectual, and is married to a quietly strong and gentle woman named Doreen. Muff's mother, famed childrens author Jean Russell Larson, was always a treasure to me, because she was such a wonderful, wise human being and fabulous writer who actually came to Clarke once to speak to us. Muff was justifiably proud of her parent, and was helping her mother recover from a broken hip when she died.
Muff's funeral was lovely and heartbreaking and all too brief. I felt as if I were part of her family, and I also felt, at the gravesite, that Muff was somehow there, as the priest said "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.." and suddenly a warm wind wound around our legs that carried the faint scent of White Shoulders, Muffs favorite perfume.
My good Irish friend Aidan Maher gave me a prayer in Gaelic to recite at Muffs funeral that he felt would be appropriate to her, because he grew quite fond of Muff when he squired us about in Dublin.
"Ar Dheis De go raibh a hanam dilis" which means "May her worthy soul be at the right hand of God." Amen.
I believe that's where Muff is now, in heavens library, reveling in all the tomes she now has time to read, and watching over us all. God go with you my friend. I wasn't sure, as I flew into Iowa for the first time in 25 years, how I'd learn to live without my beloved former roomate, but I now believe that as long as I can remain in contact with her marvelous family, and share memories with them, I will never truly be without my best friend.