Love is more thicker then forget. ~ E.E. Cummings

A year before Mark died he told Diana, “I want to go on a pilgrimage.”

Katrina had just destroyed the infrastructure of our beloved village and wreaked havoc on our psyches. Within twelve hours we had no electricity, no way to leave the horse farm where we were holed up by choice to protect the horses, no livelihoods, uncertainty whether Mark and Diana’s house had survived, and our futures were erased like an Etch-a-Sketch. Mark’s desire for a pilgrimage had nothing to do with Katrina, but had all to do with his inner knowing about his soul journey.

Mark and me at Jazzfest

When I saw Mark for the last time, he was lying on his massage table. I told him I didn’t want to cry (knowing he wouldn’t want me to cry over him) and he strongly concurred. Mark didn’t like to cause people pain. After all, we shared a profession that helped people through their suffering. In retrospect, I would have let myself cry a river despite his resistance, because the following day he would take his last breath.

A decade later, I find myself in a similar situation, sitting with people grieving my departure. Although, I am growing my capacity to be with other people’s grief, I still don’t like it, but I know it forces something in me to open that would otherwise stay closed.

I have been told by countless people that I need to be more selfish, “After all, this is your death.” I realize I have comforted others throughout my life, but it’s now time for me to be in the center of my mandala. I am at another threshold being offered a beautiful opportunity. The gratitude I feel toward my body keeps growing along with the teachings. Do I deserve to be in the center? After all these years and all my work, it comes down to this question.

By setting boundaries, deciding in the moment what I need and what I don’t, I am learning a new skill, or perhaps refining an old skill that has been underdeveloped. I really don’t have a lot of practice putting my needs before other people’s emotional needs and that is a requirement if one is to die consciously.

People have been sharing their sadness about losing me and to be able to feel their pain I have to feel my own pain. My strategy had been to dissociate, but now I am bringing myself back into my body. My children have been powerful, generous teachers in this practice. They need me to feel their pain fully right now. I have always been able to go deeper in life when my children’s well-being was at stake, because my love for my children exceeded my self-love. Now it is time for a recalibration. Now I need to learn to be Selfish.

It isn’t easy to feel my loved one’s grief, but when I remind myself that I am not causing it, it is more bearable. I now know how Mark felt.

What if I said I was excited to leave? Is that okay? How can I come to terms with the grief I feel about leaving my children and grandchildren and still be excited to leave, excited about where I am going?

My children and grandchildren and I just spent most of the summer together. We watched family videos, examined rocks, listened to each other’s writings, and shared our joy and our grief. I know that somehow it all fits together perfectly, the paradoxes and ambiguities. The part of me that has already gone knows I will be with them forever. It is just the part still embodied that fears otherwise.

I can feel the excitement before me, my beloveds in Spirit world are excited for my return. What I want to say to my loved ones still in bodies is to live your life well, love well, and listen deeply – I won’t be far away. And when the time is right for you to come Home, we will celebrate together.

Loving you loving me loving all.

 

 

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