Tonight, I did my annual ritual of writing down what I want to let go of in my life–that which no longer serves me, and then, writing down what I want to invite into my life. I went out to the beach with my friend where we read what we wrote and then lit our pieces of scrap paper on fire. I called into my awareness my Mendocino family whom I have spent this time of year with and done this ritual with for many, many years since returning to Terra Firma from Luna’s branches. Although, we were not together in person, they were definitely with me in heart and spirit.
I invoked Berk and Moese, two of my Mendocino family whom I love very much, who are no longer with the living. And at the same time, I was praying for my Paternal Grandmother and that part of my family. I got a message today from my Dad, that my Grandmother is on the last of the journey of transitioning from physical form to the spiritual form. I was told she probably has one to two days left.
Interesting, how my last post is about the challenges I face with my family of origin vs. how close I feel to my family of choice, and now, just a couple weeks later, I am writing about them both again in this context. I grieved deeply when Moese passed. He was a beautiful, amazing person–the kind we need more of, not less. I grieved even deeper when Berk passed. I grieved more for him than I have ever grieved the passing of anyone in my life, other than my “adopted” brother, Anthony. I still carry a picture of Berk with me in my wallet. When I open it up, Berk’s face is the first thing i see. He was an angel in my life when he was alive, and he still is.
And now, my Grandmother is in her time of transition. I am sad for members of my family who I know will grieve and feel all kinds of mixed emotions. And at the same time, I feel almost no sense of personal loss. I feel like I “should,” but it’s just not there. I love my Grandmother. She is family of origin. And she was there for me in the ways she knew how. She knitted me an afghan, so I could be covered in her care. She bought my brothers and me, colorful monkey puppets that had arms and legs that strapped around our waist and neck because she knew we were very into puppeteering. She encouraged me to cook and loved sharing her recipes with me–her roasted pecans and potato salad were one of a kind. She hand-wrote letters all the way up until the last couple years when her health was failing. And, she was a rigid person in her sense of right and wrong. She was often caustic and negative. And nothing ever seemed to be good enough for her. Bless her heart. I love my Grandma. And I know she loved me very much. And I feel almost no sense of deep personal loss. And that’s just the way life is.
It’s hard to write about these things, but something inside me feels it is more respectful to tell what is true for me than to make everything seem perfect and pretty because life is so rarely that way.
When my time comes to pass from the physical to the spiritual realm, I pray that I pass in anonymity and silence. I would like to be the person who time and people forgot. If that wish does not come true, I pray that people at least tell the truth and be honest about their feelings and experiences of me– all of them, without editing. I will be dead. I won’t notice one way or the other. Why waste the opportuntiy for authenticity?
Here’s to life and death. Because there really is no separation.
As I see Solstice as the New Year, Happy New Year!