birth & death, & everything in between

a grave marker in the beautiful Sierra Vista Cemetary in Taos, NM

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,

there is a field.  I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,

the world is too full to talk about.

Ideas, language, even the phrase each other

doesn't make any sense."

Rumi

It's been an emotional few weeks.  Quite a bit of weeping.

Mitakuye Oyasin.  We are all related.  I do believe that beyond these bodies, we are all one, and the sentiment of this poem by Rumi resonates deeply with me - yet still, the reality of mortality can be hard to deal with.

Two weeks ago today, our dear sweet neighbor and landlord Mr. Bowyer passed away.  I truly miss him and wish that we had spent more time with him.  His presence was comforting, and pretty much every warm day that we had, he would be out in his wheelchair, either in his beautiful big backyard, or occasionally in the front driveway.  Adobe liked to take friends over to meet him, outside or in the house.  He had an open-door policy.  He was a real sweetheart, and I feel that he loved knowing there was a nice family here enjoying this house, which we do, so much.  I wish that we had had him over for dinner sometime, which just seemed like it would be tricky because of his big automatic wheelchair, with both entrances to the house being a few steps up, but I really wish now that we had made it happen, somehow.    
     My heart aches when I'm in the kitchen, where I'd always look out the window and see him across the yard getting fresh air and sunshine.  My heart aches any time I look over at the house, and think about the fact that he (his living body) is no longer there, and his grandson, who's just a couple years older than me, is now there alone, after all these years of living with him, and helping to care for him, and being his buddy.  But I know that he is still here, I feel his spirit around us, over the trees and the grass, and the houses, and I talk to him. 
     I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to pay last respects while there was still breath in his body.  I wept so much on the way to the hospital, going into the room, and when I was saying goodbye to him.  I wish that I had had a couple minutes alone with him, but the room was full of family members and his caretakers.  I wanted so much just to give him a little Reiki, and a kiss on the cheek.  I did whisper in his ear that we loved him and would miss him so much.  And even though he was unconscious, I know he heard me. 
     Yes, he was not a member of my blood family, but I love him, and this is my first experience really of 'losing' someone that I am used to seeing on a regular basis.  The only other family member who has passed on was my grandfather, and I loved him so much, but I hadn't seen him for ten years.  In both cases, there is regret, and things I wish I'd done when they were alive.
     My granddad's funeral is the only one I've been to.  Mr. Bowyer's is delayed until January, because it will be at Arlington Cemetary, and they are booked up.  My granddad's viewing and funeral gave me great comfort & closure - I wept over him, and kissed him, and stroked his hair, and his Buddha earlobes, and talked to him, and told him how much I loved him.  He looked so small lying there, a shell of the big robust man I knew, so full of life, the man who threw great parties on the holidays for his family, who would sing, and tell stories, and enlist me and my cousins to perform for him, much in the way he did with my mother and her sister apparently.

This morning, I am attending another funeral.  Two days ago, my dance teacher (from age 7 to 18), Ms. Sparks, passed on.  More regrets.  I have been talking for years about going to visit her, right here in Arlington, and never did.  I'm so thankful though for the many great memories that I have of her from my childhood, and for the focus she brought to my childhood, the influence she had on my life, and the training she gave me, which along with others, helped me to support myself by teaching dance for many of my adult years.  I did get a chance to thank her, many years ago, but I wish that I had gone and told her these things again, and told her how much I loved her.  Today, I will be doing alot more weeping, I'm sure.

I weep for the pain of our knowledge of our own mortality.
I weep for the pain that causes my father, and for the wish that he will find resolve with this before his time comes.
I weep for the pain and sorrow of loved ones who miss that special person they will see no more.
I weep for the pain of humanity.
I weep for the pain of mothers and fathers who have lost a child.
I weep for the pain of children who have lost their parents.
I weep for all of the suffering in the world.
I weep because change is so hard sometimes.
I weep with gratitude and joy for the gifts in my life, first and foremost being my family.
I weep with gratitude and awe for this amazing baby and my other children who have chosen me as their mother.
I weep with gratitude and joy for life.