The Hermit Poet

I received word last night that my dear friend and editor Nancy Lambert passed away peacefully yesterday morning due to complications from cancer. She was a brave and bright soul — one who epitomized love in its purest sense. She and her husband cared for all the stray cats in their neighborhood — maybe 20 or 30 of them sometimes. She knew them all by name, knew their individual personalities, and knew how best to work with each. She did all this while she also worked as a copy-editor, a poet, and a novelist. She served in many capacities — always working for more love and compassion in the world.

As an editor, she was honest and caring — she understood both the craft and the heart of a manuscript. Unafraid of being brutal in her editing suggestions, she was also generous in her praise. I will miss her deeply in this capacity — but more than this, I will miss the long conversations we had over all sorts of topics. She loved this world, despite those who sometimes make it ugly. She loved people, despite their many flaws. She loved language and the power of poetry.

We talked a few months ago on the phone and I was struck — moved by her attitude and strength, despite what seemed to be a return of the cancer. She said she had had a wonderful spiritual experience and through it she knew she was loved, that the doctors were doing their very best, and that somehow things would work out in the way it was supposed to. She said she had no fear of death any more — she only worried about finishing her book. There was so much positive energy radiating out of her, it humbled me.

A group of her close friends and her own editor now are continuing the work on the book. It weaves in poetry and personal narrative with fiction, explores the boundary space of dying, and addresses what cancer does to people and what people do with cancer. It’s a spiritual book without being religious. It is very much Nancy — so grand and vast in its vision. So deep in its explorations. So much heart that we ache with our loss of her.

Still, I know that Nancy is not far from us. Somewhere she continues on with her great love of people and animals. Somewhere she is editing and writing. She sends her love back to us, as she always did: without reservation, without concern for race, gender, religion, or nationality. I am certain in the afterlife that all those she has cared for now surround her with arms of gratitude and reunion. I have no qualms about admitting that I am a religious man. I am also a spiritual man. I believe in a God whose love and compassion and tolerance are greater than our comprehension — and that Nancy was a constant reminder of that love in my life.

Nancy, wherever you are, tell the cats hello. We miss you.