I'm empty right now, so I'm just rephrasing what I posted on ScubaBoard and some other PM conversations I've had;
In true Lynne spirit; I don't know you, but I care about you. I need to take care of me, but I will give to you first. All I ask is that you do the same when possible.
Like many others, I was an admirer of how knowledgeable, giving and centered LCF / TSandM was in online communities. NWDC and SB are built almost entirely on words. And the vast majority of us simply have none at this time.
"I don't know what to say."
A community silenced.
You accepted no limitation in being able to positively impact someones life. The digital realm did not hold you back, nor the emergency room, the horse stable nor many other settings. You gave and gave, and that is clearly reflected here.
I have to imagine that you would react to news of this magnitude by simply staring at your screen, and resting your hands in your lap until you had the right thing to say. I'm certainly not you, but this feels like a time to try and be you.
We were DM's together, and shared a joy and passion for teaching others to be safe and careful divers in a supportive learning environment. I had the great fortune to know you and Peter, to stop by your house as I abandoned my BC and got outfitted with my first BP&W in your basement. So there are some things I want people to know. No, actually there are some things I insist people know.
You were LCF here, and TSandM on SB, but you were our sweet Lynne in the real world. Every bit of kindness you showed here was matched by a smile that glowed from a special place within you. The well composed counsel that you shared here was no match for the wisdom that many of us received from you in person.
Frequently, technology and impersonal communication leads us to a controversial dialog. All here know that you offered reason to those heated discussions. People need to know that that very same technology also shielded people from really knowing you fully. Your essence and beauty blazed bright in so many moments. Your royal court was the parking lot at Cove 2. There, you were in your element, among your people - that was a special setting to encounter you, and those who only knew LCF / TSandM missed out on that.
Technology can't capture the experience many of us had, of pulling up your funky driveway (with a telephone pole right in the middle of it!), and you looking out from your chair by the sliding glass door, smiling at the recognition that it was a kindred soul, getting up and opening that same door. I like to think that I am welcoming in my own home, and greet visitors at the door with a smile. But, for me at least, I never even made it to your front door most of the time. You would roll open the side of your house, and welcome me directly into your inner sanctum with a bright smile.
I would tell you that I wish you could see the outpouring of emotion and the wealth of comments being shared about you. I am positive that you knew all about this worldwide network of people you touched. That is what made you give. You had a chronic case of giving, of making the world better, of sharing, of being positive. I saw students do things they never thought they could do because of the confidence you gave them. Hell, I'm in that same group.
I guess I want people to know that, as you were in online communities, you were even more an embodiment of those qualities in person. You would probably blush and shrug off many of the kind words being said about you. That wasn't why you were you. I think you gave so freely because you knew how it was received. You knew that people wanted and needed to hear what you had to contribute. And boy oh boy, did you have the ability to give!
I have to think that you would want this incomprehensible loss to inform us, even just a little bit, about something we can do to be safer, smarter divers. Or at least LCF / TSandM would.
But I can't imagine that Lynne would have any solitary concern at this time other than for her amazing partner Peter. She would want us to tell him how our lives were impacted by her, and perhaps how we are trying to be more like the Borg Queen that floated among us for a period. As an ER doctor, she worked at the edge of life and death, and was starkly aware of the line between. She knew that the words we have to offer today can only slightly soften the blow. But the comfort we can offer him now is the least we can do for her. She would also want us to be there for one another in a big way.
Lynne, you and Peter own a treasure trove of dive gear, and you shared it freely with us. But the real shrine to you is your computer. It should be brought to DEMA every year so that we can glide our fingers along its keyboard, hoping to absorb just a small portion of the knowledge, warmth and kindness that you gave of so freely. It should be analyzed by generations of scientists to figure out how to capture and share that light with world.
Perhaps you already taught us how to do that, and it's time to pick up on your example.
I work at sea, and Lynne and I had many discussions about this. Within a weeks time I must depart again. And my journey will take me directly past her last dive site. There is a strict rule on the vessel that nothing ever goes over the side into the water, ever. But not this time. Not this time.
I always tell people that Cape Flattery looks like those scenes from movies that show how the earth was created - wild waves crashing against huge cliffs and giant rock spires. I figure if it's good enough for the birth of the universe, then I guess it's fitting for the loss of a legend.
Godspeed, fair winds, and following seas my friend.
-Ed in Mill Creek
OW, AOW, Boat, Deep, EANx, CPR, First Aid, O2, Rescue, HSA, DM