I began writing in a personal journal daily last week, just 750 words. No literary masterpiece, I was just going with my train of thought to better understand my thoughts. It was a personal journey writing experiment. I was surprised to begin my first journal entry with Dear Johnny, followed by a whole letter to my brother who passed away nearly 3 years ago. I was surprised to find anger and grief still hidden inside myself that was coming out in this journal entry. I told him how I felt about some of his choices and non-choices in life. How these affected those closest to him to this day and will for generations. As the tears flowed, I found myself wishing I did more, listened more, helped him more, anything more. The should haves and could haves rolled off my pen. That my sisters were smarter than I and did more. That I had traveled so much that year and had missed too many of his treatments. I blamed myself for being in denial. And when my mind was exhausted of the things I missed and failed at, I realized that I couldnt fix this. That I had to trust he did the best he could in a really difficult situation. That I am doing the best I can. And I could see just how hard I am on myself. I sat in this quiet for quite some time and then I began remembering the good that happened. How my sisters, my mom and I went down to visit him and took turns staying with him in his last days. How he wanted us around him in this difficult time. How we played cards together and laughed. That we had some of the deepest conversations ever in those last days. And when hospice came, we were there to listen and help hold that space for him to comprehend and support his decisions. It was like we were kids again around the table, only the 5 of us. At the end he was hospitalized and we were saying our goodbyes that night. I brought a holy tool and as he became quieter and quieter, I whispered in his ear if he was ready to be Initiated. His eyes were closed, his breathing slower and he squeezed my fingers, his yes. As a Guide, I laid that sword down and he took a breath. Back at the house later on, I took a shower to clean off my day and I heard a voice - clear as a bell- say Im here. I knew my brother was in good hands now. At 3:17am I woke up because my body was completely vibrating and I knew it was time, that my brother was on a new journey. A short time later we received *The Call* from the hospital that he did pass over at 3:17am. I remember sitting on the side of the bed grateful to know he wouldnt be suffering anymore, that he is in good hands now and that I was honored to offer him one of the holiest ceremonies before he left. That I did some good that day. I learned a good lesson today about forgiving myself and maybe my brother had something to do with this. Funny how things can turn around on you like that . These tears are of gratitude.
Posted on: Sun, 07 Dec 2014 04:19:27 +0000
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