Nothin’ but LOVE.

This is from Happily Homeless (my mom- who also happens to be the other half of MoonStruck and my dad- who died April 21, 2013). I wanted to share this with all of you. It has brought a sense of peace, hope and above all, a message of Great Love. We should all be so lucky to experience such a blessing…

~This is long but bear with it. A woman spoke to me last night at a womens’ circle that I attended. Unsolicited, expecting nothing from me. And proceeded to tell me things from Handsome Husband. I’m an all kinds of skeptical person at times. There are 2 phrases in this from him that are, word for word, things that he spoke either about me or directly to me. And the part about being a team? We said that to each other frequently, especially in hospice. This is what Susan said to me and then emailed to me:

“Please know that our sharing is a great blessing for me, too. It was a privilege to be the conduit of that hug and feel the boundless, unconditional love between you. He says, “You may have your doubts (in life) but NEVER DOUBT THAT.” (The love you share). And he emphasizes “share”, in the present tense, saying, “It is alive still, and I am alive, more than I have ever been, more than I could ever dream. It’s so beautiful. We’ve been a lot of places, but this place beats ’em all! I can’t wait to show you, and you know I’ll be there when you come, but don’t you go hurrying! You’ve still got stuff to do, and I’ll be there to help you, every step of the way, because that’s how we do things. We made an agreement, didn’t we? To stick together. We can’t let a little thing like this slow us down. Keep your head up, I’ve got you!” And he likes the pink and the new hair and says it’s sexy! Now I was hesitant to write that, but he assures me you’re okay with it. And there’s something else he’s telling me. While he is light-hearted and humorous, he’s serious about this, and if he could place his hands on both your shoulders and look you straight in the eye and say this, he would. He says, “Don’t go feeling bad for me. Don’t feel guilty.” He wants you to open your heart (as you said last night) and when the times comes to receive the love, to go forward fully, without reservation. That love is good, that love for one doesn’t diminish love for another, and if it comes your way, embrace it because it’s all One. “I’d give it all to you, but you already have it.” And he smiles as he says this, like a parent watching their child take its first steps, because he says you know deep down that it’s true. He also says to give you more credit than that! And infers to me that “She might be small but she’s a pistol!” That when you set your mind to something, you do it, and he’s laughing now, saying “It would take a bigger man than me to get in her way!” He liked to watch you in action, that you’re a little powerhouse, a little tank! That the car suits you perfectly. “One thing my wife is not: subtle!” Of those who have communicated with me over the years, I must say that he is the most fun, simply because his simplicity, lightheartedness, and humor are just contagious. He puts one at ease immediately, and you just know that all is well.

About the bell: I want to elaborate about how the bell is the buddhist symbol for the divine feminine wisdom and the emptiness that contains All; about how it is a call to mindfulness, and being in the present moment; about how I know these things because of my familiarity with buddhism and that he would know that I know and would make that connection, but I suspect you may find yourself hearing bells at just the right times and he says he wants to “have fun with it”. As for his comment about, “I heard bells!”, it is not uncommon for those who are transitioning to hear the celestial music. I was incredibly blessed to hear such a thing while in a light sleep recently, and it was the most glorious sound I’ve ever heard, like an ocean of tiny glass bells in scintillating harmony. It was truly the sound of joy.

Pay attention to the signs, both metaphorically/metaphysically, and the road signs. Things will catch your eye; let them inspire you. When this happens, he says, “Just smile and keep going!”
“I won’t leave you without a map.”

I told you last night that I know you will succeed; he tells me now (and proudly): “She already did!”

Additionally, he communicated to her last night, and she to me, the words “Of all that was good in my life, the greatest gift was you.” In one of our few private conversations in hospice, those were his words, followed by “Saying goodbye to “us” is the hardest part of all of this.”

The Pink Escape

I’ve never been the type of woman who cares about cars. The extent to which I am “into” cars is as long as they are running and get me from point A to point B, I am happy. That all changed yesterday. Yesterday my mom got her brand new 2013 Ford Escape painted pink. Like, seriously pink. She had decided she was going to have this done when my dad was sick and dying in hospice with cancer. She told him this and said that way he would always be able to find her on the road. He smiled and wasn’t surprised at her decision- she had always wanted to have a pink car. 

We drove last evening to pick up this new magical ride of hers. Her face spoke volumes. Yes. This car was always meant to be this color. And she was always meant to drive it. The wonderful man, Anthony, who painted this car for my mom was so kind and very excited to have such an opportunity! Apparently he had always wanted to paint a car pink but never had a customer interested. My mom shared her story with him about why she was painting her car this color. He said he had to do it and would even come down a substantial amount on his price. It all came together perfectly. This artist known as Anthony even came up with a custom shade of pink and told my mom that he would name it after my dad. The name he came up with was “Chuck’s Watching Over Me.” When he showed us the can with the name of the color on it we were sent into tears. I don’t know if this man will truly ever understand just how touched we were by this whole experience. He was a gift. 

Driving home, my mom following in her magical pink ride, I couldn’t keep my eyes from glancing in my rearview mirror. The way the light of the sun bounced off its pearl-like sheen was beautiful. This wasn’t just a pink car. No, this car was so much more than that. Everything about this car had my dad all over it -even though my dad would have groaned at the idea of having to drive around in it. It was as though he had just wrapped himself all the way around it as an armor for her. This car said YES. Yes to my mom’s strength. Yes to her grief. Yes to love. Yes to adventure. Yes to life! We decided to celebrate and stop for some frozen yogurt on our way home. 

This post is not so much about the car itself but more of what it represents. As we indulged our tastebuds with the cooling sweet flavors of our fro-yo, my mom expressed that this was the first moment that she had felt a glimmer of hope since my dad got sick. For just a brief moment, there was a sense of calm in place of the constant devastation that she has known for the last 10 weeks. We both felt that the magic was continuing to unfold. I told her I just knew, in my gut, that she was going to be ok. And she replied, “You know, I actually almost believe you.”  These words had not yet been uttered prior to this moment. 

The sense of relief that I feel for her as she travels back out into the unknown is almost palpable. I don’t know what it is about that car, but I believe that my dad really is with her now. I feel it energetically everytime I look at that car. I am able to look at it and think “Oh, there you are dad!”

For me this car acts as a metaphor for where my mom is at. This car of hers required being taken apart piece by piece in order to be painted before being put back together to allow for its transformation to fully take place. It was the first time a car had actually made me cry and smile at the same time.

Courage & Transformation

In an act of empowered grief, my amazing, strong, and courageous mother has cut off all of her hair. It is shocking and it is beautiful. SHE is beautiful. This is her way of wearing her grief right out in the open. I was proud to stand by her side and witness this transformation. To me, she represents the truest form of a Wild Woman- embracing the light and dark that lives within each one of us.  I stand humbled. I stand in awe.