| Richard Stephen Vincent Rose, Jr. passed away on Wednesday morning, July 6, 2005 at 5:50 A.M. A stream of friends and students from all across the country made the trip to the geriatric facility in Weirton, WV, the funeral home and finally to the graveside of the family farm to pay their last respects to this man whose profound teachings were cut short by the onset of Alzheimer's disease some ten or so years ago. The poem at the right hints at a prophetic glimpse of his final journey. He has left us a legacy of books and recorded lectures that will provide seekers a lifetime of insight into their true nature, but the spark of his presence will be deeply missed. Thank you Richard Rose, father, husband, friend and spiritual teacher, for reminding us there is hope for final realization and that we don't have far to seek and find it. |
 |
"I Will Take Leave of You"
(From Carillon)
I will take leave of you
Not by distinct farewell
But vaguely
As one entering vagueness
For words, symbols of confusion
Would only increase confusion
But silence, seeming to be vagueness,
Shall be my cadence,
Which someday
You will understand.
|
|
Richard Rose, age 24, Baltimore, MD
March 14, 1917 - July 6, 2005
|
|
|
| The following are tributes to Richard Rose by friends and family. |
|
“As we honor Richard Rose on the first anniversary of his death we remember how in life he shunned honors. Though he worked tirelessly to get his message out to as many people as possible and to help those who were moved to spend time learning from him, he did everything he could to divert attention from himself. He derided personality cults and did not want a band of hero-worshipping followers. His vision for the group that formed around him was not a teacher-student/guru-disciple organization, but rather an assembly of like-minded friends—a "clubhouse of philosophers," as he called it.
He was a unique individual who encouraged uniqueness and independence in the individuals who listened to him. His advice was to "turn over every rock" in our spiritual search--investigate every possibility—and his teachings offer a "meta-system" to help individuals sort through the myriad spiritual offerings as each works out his or her own salvation. He said not to believe anyone or anything—including him and his teachings. Doubt everything, he said, until you've tried it out in your own life. If it works or seems helpful, stick with it. If not, throw it out.
Those who had the good fortune to work with Richard Rose recognize that they are unlikely to meet a man of his wisdom and stature again. There is no greater way to honor him than to take his advice and find one's own way to Truth.”
--Bart Marshall
Editor of After the Absolute
|
Tatia’s Letter:
“Dear Father,
I am with you here now as those who love you the most are – in spirit. What our time together lacked in length it compensated for in depth. Because of your guidance, leadership, and wisdom, I will never walk this earth without the companionship of brothers and sisters. You have given us ourselves. Our truths, our lives, strength, and love. And while this earthbound journey has been short, we have walked it side by side. Our first steps together were rich in bliss, poor in sadness, and pure of innocence. And although the next bend in the road would take us through a dark tunnel, the end finds itself in the light – here and now. I also know that the end is not nearly as important as the journey. I know that you will be with me as I walk the steps of my journey, and will make the path one you would be proud to walk with me. On this path will also be my mother, my family, and all those who love you as I do. I know they want you here as much as I do, but I also know we want your soul to be free as you have freed ours. I will always love you and I will always think of you. And when I want you by my side, all I have to do is think about walking up the hill through the autumn leaves, your hand wrapped around mine, and my cheek pressed against the sleeve of your flannel shirt.”
|
Juliet's Letter:
LAST DAYS
I looked at a face so vivid in my memory, a face that a long illness had made gaunt and hardly recognizable. I leaned over - put my hand on his withered shoulder and whispered in his ear, " you were there the day I came into this world, I'll be here the day you leave" Suddenly his eyes opened wide - I peered deeply into the liquid blue pools that mirrored my own. Saucer like they expressed to me that it was not what he wanted, but I did not listen - I had my own ideas. I kept a bedside vigil, watching his color fade, hearing his faint breathing stop and start - then the 'death rattle' came and I imagined that each labored effort, each rise and fall of his barrel chest would be the last. Then it seemed he saw something that only he could see. His eyes followed it as it moved from the corner of the room to right above his bed - shaking his head, eyes wide, jaw dropped he vocalized - I don't think he was ready just yet. I tried to comfort him and tell him that he was free to transition in front of me, that it was okay for him to go on ahead and make a place for the rest of us - after all he was a patriarch as well as a pioneer, but he did things his way his whole life and he was no different in the moments before death. He waited until I left the room to get my mother - finally finishing his long journey, he slipped away from this world on the wings of one last deep breath. In the aftermath of that last breath I believe my heart fluttered like a butterfly's wings - causing a cataclysmic earthquake in my core. Walls came crashinfg down, scales fell from my eyes and the illusion that is this life dropped away leaving me with nothing but my self to confront. I looked at his face and realized. He taught me in death what I did not understand about life - one final lesson from my grandfather to me and from me to all who care to read this. After my grandfather left us I realized that the most important activity
a human being can spend the years of their life on is building loving, selfless relationships with other human beings. The most enlightening moments, those of self realization, come only when love is stronger than ego, when one can let go of selfishness and self- centeredness and allow what is the right and true self to emerge from the depths of the soul without fear. My grandfather loved without fear - lived without ego - and died without doubt. He knew his purpose - and for those of us who were fortunate enough to know a man simply called 'Rose', a man I called grandfather - we are better people - not because we loved him, but because he loved us. - Juliet Rose
|
|
Kathleen's Letter:
Sunday, July 3rd, I had just gotten home from visiting my youngest daughter in Philly. I saw the number on my caller ID. My heart started pounding. I knew what I was going to hear as I retrieved the message. Before it was finished, I was already calling out to my oldest daughter, "Juliet, we have to go to West Virginia, Grandpa is dying!"
We were back on the road within 30 minutes. I didn't think, I just drove. No question, no hesitation. The miles peeled away. It was after 11 PM when we arrived in Weirton. Despite time, despite family squabbles, despite all that life handed us, "blood is thicker than water"... one of dad's frequently used comments I recall from childhood. He was right.
I had no idea what the next few hours, or days, would bring. What mattered was that I be there. This was my daddy, and yes, I loved him.
I prayed for his suffering to be over, for the labored breathing to ease, for him to go peacefully... and eventually he did... however...
on the evening prior to his passing, Mike Casari read to him, the "Three Books of the Absolute." It was the first time I had ever heard this particular work in it's entirety. It was the first time I really listened, as I stood by my father's bed, watching his labored breathing become calmer. When Mike finished the reading, I looked at my dad and spoke to him, acknowledging that indeed, it was all right there... everything that needed to be said. He knew that I appreciated and understood... finally his stubborn, wayward daughter understood. The look in his eyes was unmistakeable... a look of complete satisfaction.
Later on that evening, I caved in to exhaustion. My daughter drove me to our hotel, she returned to Grandpa's bedside. I had fought sleep for 2 days. I didn't want to sleep then, but my body wouldn't cooperate with my mind's intention. The phone rang. Juliet was on her way to get me, a mere 5 minutes from the nursing home. The nurses said dad had about an hour before he passed. He waited for the kid to leave the room. When we arrived back at the nursing home, he had already taken his last breath.
I am deeply indebted to Mike Casari and Bart Marshall. I have never before witnessed such love, such caring, and such compassion as these gentle men displayed during those final days that brought to an end the long illness that ravaged my father's mind and body. You will forever be my "brothers from another mother".
Kathie Rose
|
| Last Hours of Richard Rose, by Bart Marshall |
 |
|
|
