My dad died at 745 this morning (Wednesday, 5 of September). Since Monday, we've been sitting with him and waiting. It finally happened when it was just my mom and my uncle Jerry and my mom's best friend, Ginny. I wasn't there. I wasn't supposed to be there when it happened. I think he wanted it to be just between him and my mom at the end.
When I walked into the room, I threw myself on him and kissed him everywhere and cried a lot.
We all express things differently, and I don't know if it matters too much what we do, as long as we're there. When we're there, the energy goes where it is supposed to go, and our small actions don't add or subtract from that energy at all.
I have been thinking about this more and more lately, that these things, or maybe even most things, are guided by an energy that we think is large, but it's larger than we could ever imagine. And it guides us to do what we are supposed to do. And plugging in, knowing secrets, and being connected, those things only make it easier to find our own flow within the cycle. But the cycle will go on with or without us, and we're not particularly special, just lucky.
There was this moment, where my mom was lying over the bed, with her arms around my dad, holding him. And Heather, the woman I fell in love with in an hour before I went to Berlin, was holding me. She looked at my mom and my mom looked at her. She says my mom looked straight into her eyes.
This thing that happened to me when I met this man, more than fifty years ago, I see it happening to you too.
I can't imagine life being as beautiful as it is.
I just can't imagine.