The Ultimate Intimacy


About Vicki Woodyard
Bob's Face
A New and Brighter Leaf
About Vicki Woodyard.....

I have been on the spiritual path for a long time. I began the website when my late husband was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. He wanted me to find my passion before he died and as it turned out, this is it.

Jerry Katz, of Nonduality Salon, published my first essay on his Yahoo list. It is called The Ultimate Intimacy and the site title now bears that name.  Thank you, Jerry, for befriending me and many others who are interested in transcending their limited identities.

Bernie Siegel, M.D., has also encouraged me to write from the heart. I posted Riding the Horse of Fear on his message board and he was kind enough to comment, “Vicki, you have said it all.” Ah, Bernie, thank you for that.

And Jerry Wennstrom, author of The Inspired Heart, has befriended me as well. His art and writing point to what we all need....a vision of creative satisfaction that can be shared.

I hope you enjoy the site. It is built on love and kept going in the same way

I hope you enjoy what you discover here.  And come back often.

Bob's Face

This is a wonderful picture of Bob taken by Tallulah Lyons at The Wellness Community.  I think his face tells the story of how he did spiritually in all of his trials.  The late Betty Bethards told him that people trusted him right away, although they didn't know why.  That is very true.

He was background to my noise and strength to my weakness.  He was a model of patience to all who knew him.

He never read the homepage much; he was busy staying alive from day to day. His encouragement was of the quiet variety--just do your thing and enjoy it.

 Bob is gone, but the homepage continues.

Below is the story of his passing.

A New and Brighter Leaf


Bob was admitted to hospice on December 16 and spent four days there before leaving us on December 20, 2004. It was cold and windy the entire time. My heart was leaden and did not know Christmas was looming. We drove there in an ambulance and Bob was too weak to protest at all. Emaciated and moving in and out of rationality, he was in little or no pain. That was left to my son and I, who were facing his final days. In his room was a small Christmas tree complete with tinsel and ornaments. It was as unreal as everything else.

My sister,  Laurie, had driven straight through from Williamsport, Pennsylvania. A devotee of Ammachi, she was the one with Bob when he died. Rob and I were home resting. I know Bob chose to go then. But in the three days prior,  a few old friends visited him. There is always a rally at the end and Bob was no exception. He wanted to be taken back to the hospital instead of remaining in hospice care. His physician and I had agreed to this and it was planned to move him the following Monday.

He died that Sunday night. Laurie fed him tiny bites of a Hershey kiss as communion. I am sure her prayers knocked on heaven’s door and it opened to see him in. My friend John said he “saw” Bob rise straight into white light.

All I have left of those four days is a leaf that blew into his room. “The french doors flew open twice,” Laurie said, “and the leaf blew in and landed at the foot of the bed, as if spirit had come to get him.” And it had. You can see a picture of the leaf, but a life well-lived cannot be scanned quite so easily.

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ŠVicki Woodyard 2008 All rights reserved

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