The timing of the shutdown of Google+, and thereby Haiku Nook, so soon after Rachel Sutcliffe’s passing, feels significant—as if without her, things are unable to continue in the same manner. Nook members have moved on to other groups or started their own to continue the comradery and community learning, but with different dynamics. I first learned about Haiku Nook from Rachel. I’m not sure whether I would have been able to remain in the group without her had it continued—it is hard to say. For me, that is just how much of a difference she made.

 

While most of us knew that Rachel was battling a serious immune system disorder, lupus, she always showed us her hopeful side and focused more on helping others than on her own struggles. Rachel and I discussed this coping technique many times, as this was something we both found helpful in dealing with our illnesses. Managing our chronic conditions and all that comes with them was what we most often discussed in our conversations via online messaging.

 

While Rachel is no longer with us, and Nook members have dispersed into different groups and directions, there is still a feeling of her lingering in the general haiku community. While Rachel didn’t discuss how close she was to passing, she must have had an idea, as until the end of April, her poems were still appearing on her website, months after her death. She must have programmed them to post on schedule well in advance of her final days.

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When Jacob first sent me a copy of the anthology in progress, it was heartening to see how everyone was moved to words in response to the loss of Rachel. While all of the works weren’t topically about Rachel, loss, or death, there was a common thread of a certain energy connecting them all.

 

Here are a few poems from Rachel’s site (www.projectwords11.wordpress.com) that were posted posthumously, each of which moved me in unsettling ways, even after I thought I’d started to move past her loss.

 

 

mid day heat

the air heavy

with words                                          April 29, 2019

 

 

rush hour

the stillness before

and after                                              April 19, 2019

 

 

silence now

yet still

the clock ticks                                       April 9, 2019

 

 

While Rachel may be physically gone from our world, a part of her lingers with us in our memories and in her words, which we are so fortunate to have.

 

Robin Anna Smith