May love continue to flow through the cracks in your heart





I’m haunted by the melancholy of this beautiful love song by Taylor Swift. It pulls at my heart, makes me gaze out the window at the ocean. I could gaze for hours. Swift’s music takes me back to Oklahoma wheatfields, twirling with John down a dirt road, and fishing through hot thunderstorms of rural Texas. The fantasy of riding in a pick-up with the captain (and state champion) of the football team, dust blowing on our trail. We had those moments, but not nearly enough to fulfill the dreams I had for our future – living a simple life in the country. Two-stepping under the big sky.

So thank you Taylor, for the longing, for the nostalgia.

P.S {sorry if this is a “debbie downer” – i had to share…}

I still remember the look on your face
Lit through the darkness at 1:58
The words that you whispered for just us to know
You told me you loved me so why did you go… away.

I do recall now the smell of the rain,
Fresh on the pavement,
I ran off the plane,
That July night, the beat of your heart,
It jumps through your shirt I can still feel your arms.

But now I’ll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes,
All that I know is I don’t know,
How to be something you miss.
Never thought we’d have a last kiss
Never imagined we’d end like this
Your name, forever the name on my lips

I do remember the swing of your step
The life of the party you’re showing off again
And I roll my eyes and then you pulled me in.
I’m not much for dancing,
But for you I did because
I loved your handshake meeting my father
I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets
How you’d kiss me when I was in the middle of saying something.
There’s not a day I don’t miss those rude interruptions and

I’ll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes,
All that I know is I don’t know, how to be something you miss.
Never thought we’d have a last kiss
Never imagined we’d end like this
Your name forever the name on my lips

So I’ll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep and
I’ll feel you forget me like I use to feel you breathe and
I’ll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are.
Hope it’s nice where you are and
I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day and
Something reminds you,
You wish you had stayed we can plan for a change in weather and time,
I never planned on you changing your mind.

I’ll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes,
All that I know is I don’t know, how to be something you miss.
Never thought we’d have a last kiss
Never imagined we’d end like this
Your name forever the name on my lips,
Just like our last kiss,
Forever the name on my lips,
Forever the name on my lips.
Just like our last

sweet acceptance

December 10, 2010

I know some of you out there reading this are in the thick of your grief and can’t imagine life ever getting any easier or your pain subsiding. I remember being there: feeling that my wounds would never stop oozing, my tears would never stop flowing, and I would never feel complete without my beloved. I would never have imagined that I would be ok again.

Over the course of this past  month-and-a-half something has shifted in me in an enormous way. I wrote in an earlier post that I was suffering from what I called the second year anniversary blues. The weeks and months before the second year anniversary were fraught with much anger, chaos, stress, and constant low-grade irritation. Then it was the anniversary of John’s birthday on November 1st. He would have been 32. A close and dear friend visited and stayed with me. I was able to shed some tears over the loss of his beauty and how hard it has been not seeing his kind of beauty replicated anywhere in the world. How hard it is to begin dating men again when no one compares to his inner and outer beauty. My friend shared of her own loss of how his special, kind, loving nature had affected her so deeply.  We stood in the middle of Barnes and Nobles as she held me in her arms and I cried.

We saw the movie The Hereafter together and that helped me understand at a greater level that the grief and loss that we experience when a loved one dies is such an excruciatingly painful part of life that we all experience. It’s not just me and a few people I know experiencing the sadness of a death. It’s all of us. All around the world, people are crying, missing, and longing for their loved ones. We are not alone in our grieving. The Hereafter also reminded me of what a sweet feeling of relief it is to know that our loved ones are still alive, loving us, always with us, and even a part of us.

On the day of John’s birthday a state of grace set in. The week between his birthday and the day of his passing (November 7th) was an unusually hot one here in Los Angeles, with temperatures up in the eighties. It was a week full of warmth, peacefulness, and gorgeous sunset drives home on the freeway with palm tree silhouettes back-lit with yellows and blues.

That weekend I spent at a buddhist monastery in the mountains near San Diego. I turned off my phone, retreated from the world, and rested. During my meditation on sunday November 7th, through tears of love, I heard guidance telling me to rejoice and celebrate the day as the day in which John was finally released from his pain. The day he found the freedom he had always searched for. I could choose to commemorate the anniversary of his passing as a sad, lonely, depressing day or I could choose to celebrate it with him and feel joy about his release. I didn’t have to miss him or feel separated from him because he is with me and always will be. So go down the mountain and celebrate and have fun together, is what I heard. And so I chose to celebrate. I left the monastery and drove to the ocean ( i love california!). It so happened that there was a village fair going on that day in the town I happened to drive right into. I wandered through the fair in a state of peace, joy, and gratitude for all the beauty in my life and most of all for John’s companionship and love.

That day was a miracle – a shift in my perception – and since then I have let go of the past that I used to have with John. I have let go of my grief, my sorrow, and my loss. My perspective in my life and the world has changed so dramatically from a few years ago. My life and my place in the world feels exciting. Time is moving fast (and I love that) and I am more conscious of the gifts in my day to day life and the gifts that I have been given in order to be here and be of service.  I am excited for my future and the possibilities that lay ahead.

I know that what I just described may feel far off or impossible for some. I offer it here as a possibility; an invitation of hope. I never thought I would feel this way. And here I am. Let me hold the space for the possibility that one day you will feel infinitely better than you can imagine right now.  Things will get better in time, I promise. Keep grieving, keep processing, journaling, dancing, moving, meditating, and healing.  And in whatever it is that you do – don’t forget to pray for a miracle.




October 16, 2010

I would do anything for you.

I’d give up my life to be with you.


You wouldn’t do the same for me.


know yourself, love yourself

September 22, 2010

arguing with fate

September 6, 2010

How do I describe the anguish of loving someone so fully, with all your heart and all your soul — that you would literally die to be with them, only to have it not work out the way you had hoped? It’s like hot, seething lava that spreads from my chest down into my gut filling me with longing and frustration; pain bubbling through my bloodstream, making me want to scream. Why didn’t it work out? Why couldn’t we just be together, peacefully, easily? If only it could have.

I see an image of two lovers, one standing on the shore of one continent, and the other standing on the shore of another. They stand gazing at each other as their respective land masses drift apart and the ocean between them grows larger and larger. This image floating in my mind’s eye has haunted me since I was a teenager. I guess it’s one of the blueprints of my life, perhaps it was a premonition of things to come. *Exhale*

It’s taken me a long time to come to this kind of understanding and acceptance, but these days I’m a big believer in fate, destiny, and “meant to be.” Like, if it was meant to be, then it would be – and things always have a way of working out for the best. I know this can sometimes come across as harsh or overly simplistic, but the wise part of me truly believes this. I trust this, I know this. For whatever reason, John and I were not meant to be as romantic partners in this lifetime. Maybe some greater love is coming for me down the pipeline, I don’t know. Maybe all will be uncovered in time. I don’t know. Maybe it will all make perfect sense in hindsight, or all will revealed when I cross over and have my big “after party.” Who knows? And that doesn’t mean that I can’t still feel the tortured, angsty, anguish of my unfulfilled love. I can still argue with my fate, can’t I? And I can still lose, every time.

Back when I was a teenager, this song inspired my vision of two lovers being torn apart. It’s beautiful, tragic, haunting:best listened to with lights off and great for releasing healing tears. The more we cry, the more we heal.

Ah to be human and to love ….

It was a very dark and lonely road. Sometimes I would fly into rages of grief or anger and throw dishes or whatever I could find against the kitchen wall and then collapse in desperation and the futility of it all. I like to get a little crazy (like the song says) and take myself on an emotional trip, to really give life to my feelings.

Like last week for instance, I was feeling a strangely heavy kind of grief about finishing my book about John. I knew and felt that the tides were changing and that for my own sake I have to start letting go. I can’t keep looking back. If I want a gloriously happy life for myself (and I do – and so does John) I know that holding on to all that has happened and keeping John frozen or waxed in the past as I once knew him, is not going to be in my best interest. With the completion of the book, it felt like the time was right. Now letting go is not easy. People say “oh you need to let go” or “just surrender,” well yeah…but how? It’s so much easier said then done. It’s a process, and for me it takes work, acknowldgement, and actually doing something about it (like dancing, writing, beaching). I was at a pretty pivotal point. So I went out and bought some freshly made goat cheese, fresh mozzarella, crusty bread, chocolate, and wine from a local and well-loved Italian grocery in Santa Monica. I packed it all up and had myself a nice picnic on the beach. I brought flowers and one of my favorite pictures of John and I sent them off into the ocean. Then I got drunk on wine and cried, laughed, and went  a little crazy while listening to my ipod. I find it’s important to indulge our emotions every once in a while, within reason, and as long as we are safe from causing ourselves or anyone else harm; kind of like throwing a tantrum but not subjecting anyone else to it.

But back to last year ~ after my emotional bouts of rage and grief, I noticed an odd nothing kind of feeling take over me. It was like my brain and body did not have any more juices or capacity to experience those feelings anymore; they were maxed out. So for a few days after my fits I wouldn’t feel any pain. I knew I was still grieving and I knew I should feel pain and sadness, but I couldn’t. It was like being in standby mode. At first I could only be in standby mode for a few days and then the grief would come barreling over me all over again. I would feel it, go back down into hell, and mourn and grieve. Then another standby mode to over and this time it would last longer than the previous one. Then the next wave of grief hit me and was then followed by another standby mode. This continued on until my standby modes became more my norm than the grief.  It was during these periods of being on hold from the grief that I began to grow stronger and feel better. Soon, during the stanby modes I was able to start feeling positive emotions again, and all of the work I had been doing in therapy, my meditative practices, and with a shaman, had the space to really integrate and take effect in my being.

This ebb and flow still continues now, but in very tiny ways. My new way of perceiving and experiencing the world is now my main way of being. And now it’s the significant markers, like the end of the creative process of my book, that any residual grief comes bubbling up to the surface. I imagine this will continue going on until my system has completely purged itself of all the grief, my old beliefs, and my old way of being. It could take months, years, or the rest of my life. Maybe the purging is a return to the innocence within, the origin of it all. This reminds me of a line from John’s suicide letter in which he wrote:

Somehow I have to believe that there is some original innocence within that transcends all.

I know everyone’s grieving and healing process is different; feels different, looks different, and gets resolved in different ways and at different paces. But I hope that some of my experiences might reflect different parts of your journey.

I’m sending support, healing, support, and love for all those reading this in darkness. We are linked together.

Right after John passed I wanted to go after him. I needed to find him. But of course I couldn’t. I have an intuition – and other guides, psychic,shamans have confirmed it- that I’m going to live a long life. Great. So the thought of living out all my years without him, waiting to be with him again, was absolutely terrifyingly brutal. I was horror-struck at this notion.

So I got it in my head that if I were to have an “awakening” or become “enlightened” that that would so radically alter my consciousness and my sense of time – that the rest of the years of my life would fly by just like that – snap*. This was my only real intention for cultivating a regular spiritual practice: to shift my sense of time so the years don’t drag by and before I know it – Viola– I’m with John. Many people aspire to be awakened because they want freedom from suffering. Now that sounded like a nice by-product but it wasn’t part of my main purpose.

I am very fortunate to have many amazing like-minded, spiritually minded, psychically abled friends in my life. Well one of these such friends – let’s call him Ben – was staying with me and sleeping on my couch for a time right after John passed. We stayed up many late nights talking about John and trying to piece together the mystery of his suicide. Those were very intense and very dark days. Ben is an amazing mystic and widely read expert on esoteric and occult phenomena. He also is a hard core meditator, so his presence in my life had a big impact on cultivating my beliefs and practices that could help me get to John.

In those early days he shared this with me because he felt it rang true to my style of spiritual path. It comes from this book called The Seven Rays (there are many with this title and I’m not sure exactly which one it is – although this was printed in 1930) which I have to say I don’t know much about. The concept is about different approaches to meditation that are best suited for different types of people depending on what ray they come from.

The Ray of Devotion is pre-eminently the ray of sacrifice.  When it is the egoic ray the method of approach through meditation takes the form of one-pointed application, through love of some individual or ideal.  A man learns to include through love of person or ideal; he bends every faculty and every effort to the contemplation of what is required, and in sacrifice for that person or ideal lays even his causal body on the flames of the altar.  It is the method of divine fanaticism that counts all lost apart from the vision, and that eventually sacrifices joyously the entire personality.  The causal body is destroyed through fire, and the liberated life streams upward to the spirit in divine beatification.

Though I have always been a seeker, questioner, explorer, and experimenter with all kinds of spiritual paths, mind altering substances, and paranormal stuff, it felt like my devotion to John was the kick-start to a commitment to the beginning of something – my true spiritual path. And I would burn all of my causal body and sacrifice everything – whatever it would take- to see and be with John again. I printed out this quote and hung it on my wall.

I began to practice meditation every morning for 15 minutes and every night for 15 minutes. I used a process called The Presence Process which is an 11 week process for attaining more presence and for untangling the conditioning of the mind that goes back to early childhood. It was intense and challenged me to be very disciplined. It was not my favorite but I do recommend it.

So in the mornings, I sat and meditated and did the breathing exercises that the book advises. I also learned from working Liv, the Shaman, to sit and make offerings to my guides, my angels, the elements of spirit, and to John. I created a little altar space where I set up photos of John and any special objects, crystals,feathers, poems, flowers, books, that were meaningful to me. Each morning before I meditated, I took a bowl and poured offerings into it. Now there are many teaching about the different offerings and they vary from culture to culture and shamanic lineage to lineage. I’m not so familiar with these teachings but based on my work with Liv, I loosely copied what she did. She usually made offerings of ash that had been created during a special ritual. I had no access to this kind of ash, so the ash was out. She usually made an offering of some kind of alcohol to her ancestors. I know that John loved red wine and my grandfather loved scotch so I alternated between these. Liv told me that I have a big posse of Angels that surround me and that I am most guided by the angelic realm. She also said that angels like sweets (hence I have and always have had a MAJOR sweet tooth– it’s a problem :)) and so I would also make an offering of honey or sugar. Cinnamon was one of John’s favorite things in the world – he used to put it on everything, so I would also offer cinnamon.

So the process looked like this: I would (out loud or in my head) welcome John, spirit, all my guides, my ancestors, my angels, the earth spirits, the water spirits, the air spirits, and the fire spirits into the space. One by one, step by step, I would announce that I was making an offering of wine and then take a sip, spit it out into the bowl and then pour some into the bowl. Then I would pour the honey into the bowl, and then next the cinnamon…and whatever else it might be- flowers or something Liv suggested… and then always end with an offering of water.

After making the invocation and giving the offerings, I would sit quietly with my eyes closed and notice any sensations around me in the air. Did the temperature change? Did I feel something move? Did  I feel an itch? Did it feel like I had a hair fall on my face? This one I feel/felt alot- like a hair falling over my lip and then I would go to move it and there was nothing there. ALOT of the time I would get chills. This is pretty common when talking to mediums or people who are in touch with loved ones on the other side. I’d pay attention to any images that would come to me in my mind’s eyes. With my eyes closed I often feel and see light- lots and lots of light. John was always very light when he was in a body, and when I am feeling and seeing lots of tingling warm  bright light I know it’s John. And he comes alot. So much of the time during my sitting practice, I will sit and feel chills all over my body and see and feel a warm light and feel flooded in this sense of light and love. And its amazing! It’s like being flooded with love. And it can also be hard, feeling so much love- especially when there’s so much grief associated to it, can bring up a lot of emotion. Often times when I bask in his love I am overwhelmed with tears (of all kinds) and sit and cry and cry. It can be hard, but it is also healing and feels good. I just go with it.

I think sitting and basking in the love, chills, tears, and light coming from our loved one on the other side or coming from whatever/whoever source – is the most healing and essential part of any sitting practice and I think that holds true for everyone, not just those who have lost someone and who are grieving.

But back to the offering ritual. After I have made my offerings ( I no longer do this- as I’ve felt that it’s no longer necessary for me- but I’m sharing it because it’s how I started to cultivate my relationship with the other side) – I expressed thanks for things in my life that I appreciated and thanked everyone for all of their help. I get as specific as I can. Then I would ask for help with certain things that I was working on or struggling with. A big one that I asked for was for help in cultivating my psychic abilities, for help in knowing- really knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that John was still alive and that he hadn’t died. I asked for signs from him to show me that he was still alive. I asked for ways in which I could grow to be able to see him and feel him and hear him as strongly as possible. I asked for help in eliminating my mental, skeptical, and doubting filter. I asked for strength, guidance….things like this. I usually asked to be able to see John again or asked to have a dream about him. Sometimes I would talk about a dream I had and then ask for guidance in understanding the messages of the dream. Then I would sit and allow myself to receive an answer or imagine the answer as best as I could.

Sometimes I would practice imagery/visualization exercises like imagining a gold ball in my minds eye and holding it there for as long as possible. This was to help sharpen my ‘inner seeing’ / clairvoyant sense. Sometimes I would practice listening and hearing all of the sounds around me, as many as possible and from as far away as possible. Then I would play with how I could magnify these sounds. How could I hear things that were even farther away?

After all this, then I would  begin the 15 minute meditation process from the Presence Process. Over the course of the last year my practice has changed as I change. I like to keep things fluid and adaptable, not rigid or dogmatic. I have let go of the ritual of offering wine, water, etc. But I do still welcome everyone and especially John every morning and offer gratitude for all their help, guidance, wisdom, and inspiration in my life. I talk to them about what’s going on in my life, and I ask them questions and wait for the answers. I set my intentions for the day and ask for specific help about specific things.

There’s this Yes/No communication technique that I learned from a service called Inner Expansion that helps people learn to communicate with their angels. I ask a question in a yes or no format – phrasing it with: “Is it in my best interest to x,y,x ….? And I let go of effort and let my head either gently fall to the side as if it is about to nod “no” or fall slightly forward or back as if it is about to nod “yes”. If it falls to the side, the answer is no. If it falls forward, the answer is yes. You can learn more about this at the website: they have a service where they “hook” you up to your angels and do an analysis about which psychic abilities are most natural to you and strongest – that’s how I learned that my clairaudience is strongest.

Another resource that I found incredibly helpful in shifting my beliefs about all of this stuff and moving from the rational, skeptical, into a place where I am less doubtful about all of these phenomena and am more and more  open and know that anything is possible – is an audio program called the Spontaneous Healing of Belief by Greg Braden. He explains the physics of many scientific experiments that prove the possibility of other dimensions, paranormal phenomenon etc..

A great book about meditation from a now deceased Buddhist master is called Dipa Ma. This woman lived through the death of two children and her husband. Miserably sick and grief-stricken she started to meditate and soon had many enlightenments and became an amazing teacher. She used to say “If I can do it, you can do it.” I highly recommend this book!

So what’s it all been good for? Have I “woken up” or haven’t I? I’ve had some amazing profound shifts in awareness. Perhaps I will write about those experiences in other posts. There were around two or three major ones that I could try and write about in some way. But whatever it was that happened — and I have experienced so many different kinds of healing and so much growth and transformation in the last year – (it’s pretty crazy) –  I am in some ways, literally a different person— and so yes, I have noticed that my sense of time has changed. It feels pretty blurry and amorphous and it has definitely sped up. Time is flying by. While most people may lament this, I love it and celebrate it. Can you believe it’s already practically September? Where did the summer go? Ahhhh……… cie la vie!

If anyone has any questions about any of this or wants further clarification, please feel free to ask. It’s alot of stuff to write, and I feel I’m only barely scratching the surface of my process and the effects of the healing work I’ve done. I’d be happy to explain more!

Here’s an excerpt I’ve been editing and I feel moved to post it. As always, I welcome comments and feedback! (*just a note – it’s brutally honest and might be triggering. So please read with self-care*)

Date: November 28th, 2009

Subject: in between worlds

Dear John,

I don’t know if being in New York right now is good for me. I’m falling back into that in between state, not wanting to be here anymore, searching for you, longing for you. It’s dark and cold again. I can’t type, I’m going to write by hand. I miss you.

I don’t feel well. I don’t look well. I look pale, dark circles under my eyes. My eyelids are puffy. My muscles feel weak and slack. I feel I am losing my strength, losing my grip again, losing the joy and the drive that I found recently to go on. Life just doesn’t feel worth living without you in it, and what am I supposed to do. I can’t go to where you are. I couldn’t deliberately take my life and yet I don’t want to be here. Don’t want to go on. I suck smoke into my body, slowly poisoning myself with a hard edged glee. And I don’t care.

What would it feel like to be with you again? To run into your arms and race into your chest and feel you alive in my arms? For you to be real again. I would squeeze you so tightly the air would evacuate. You might not be able to withstand my ferociousness. The tears stream and fall down out of my eyes every day. Love and kindness are what bring me to tears. When I see it in life or in the movies I feel you and my heart aches with pain and with love. It fills me with emotions that I can’t describe but they take the form of tears. Grieving is a form of loving.

As time passes it can sometimes seem as if you never existed at all, like I made you up and you are a figment of my imagination. You came and went and the evidence of your life now lives only in my memories. But as time moves on, will I be able to remember you anymore? Some of it has faded. Like I can’t remember exactly what you sounded like and I can’t remember exactly the kind of words you used when you spoke. You were real though right? Too good for this world. And I was lucky enough to have known you like I did, to have shared a piece of your body with you, and to have taken care of you as best as I could.

You haven’t been in my dreams for a while now. I remember when you had first passed, the electricity in my kitchen would go out and a candle exploded mysteriously. I had dreams of you often. Dreams where you were still alive but also dead at the same time and you were going to kill yourself. But this time you were going to kill yourself in different ways, with needles or with a gun. And I wanted to save you. I tried to save you in my dreams but I got there to late, too damn late, and I couldn’t save you. Ah the frustration and rage burns me up. I want to rage the world in a howling lightning storm and smash it all to pieces, smash myself to pieces for getting there too late. My heart is shattered and oozes out love in fragmented ways. It will never be whole again and I don’t know if I can ever love anyone again. I’m growing old and haggard. I see it clearly in the mirror. And it’s ok. The older I get the closer I get to death and the closer I get to you. My smoking helps. I can’t wait to be old. I’m jealous of old people I see walking in the street or wheeling around in wheelchairs. I’m envious of how much closer to death they are than me. I have a good eight to ten grey hairs now in the front. I’m sure they have sprung up in this year of mourning. So be it. I welcome them. I have a feeling though that I’m going to live a long life, like into my eighties. That’s at least fifty years from now- more than what I’ve already lived so far. I can’t fathom it. I don’t know if I can bear all that time ahead of me without you, waiting to see you again. In heaven I want to see you play football. I’ve never seen you play. I want to hear you singing in a concert hall. That would be my version of heaven right now. I never knew you in high school as a football star but I feel like I did. Like somehow I did know you when we were teenagers and I can feel it in a weird way that I can’t describe. I would have loved you and recognized you anywhere, anytime, in any place in history.

I dream of us being kindergarten sweethearts. You chase me around the playground trying to peck my cheek with kisses. I savor each one. I tell all my friends, my teachers, and my parents that one day when I grow up I’m going to marry you.

Oh, I’m not well. I’m really not doing so well right now. But who is there to tell. What is there to say even? My sister Eden is in the next room, pregnant and asleep. I know I should be happy about the things that I have to live for, but deep down, I’m not.

I have to keep believing, keep trusting that things will work out for the best- that everything happens for a reason, that there is some reason for this loss in my life, some reason that you are not here anymore. Its got to work out better than this. It’s got to have a good ending some way, some how. What kind of good ending could possibly make up for the loss of you? I doubt it could be anything that could make up for your death. If there was a way to bring you back, I’d trade all of this, my lot in life, my purpose in life to be together with you again. If only I could.

Sad eyes. You had sad eyes. Sad eyes and a big heart that was so beautiful to me.

I would do anything to be with you again.  Ha. Anything but suicide. Have I said that enough? How nice to be like Romeo and Juliet and have the freedom to die for each other. I don’t have that freedom, I’m trapped in this body and trapped here on this Earth to serve out the rest of my days until I can be with you and die my natural or accidental death. Oh my god. How I wait for the day where I can be back with you and never ever leave your side again.

Everybody has somebody it seems. Loving someone who isn’t actually here is a strange thing. It moves forces in me that I never knew I had. It’s sickly and melancholy and challenges my faith every day when I wake up and I renew it anew. I feel you everywhere. I want to believe it’s you. No. I know it’s you. Am I getting weirder to people because I’m still holding on to you. You the love of my life that abandoned me to suicide. Why does she even still care about him? What is she so hung up on? I can hear them say in their minds. How can I explain all that you mean to me? I can hardly explain it to myself. All I know is that it is love. A love that makes me whimper in the dark with the pain of missing for you and the knowledge that you will never be found.

It’s a year after your death. I have tried to move on. I make a commitment to be happy every day. I am in New York, in bed, writing this to you in the dark. I am in the room that I slept in every night as a child. I am in the room where I lay on my turquoise carpet in despair from my own frustration of not being able to live up to my own potential. I am back in my own familiar darkness and loneliness. The bare trees, sepia sunlight, abstract city lights, cozy interiors, family I feel separate from, and the old familiar ache of something missing. Always looking for love. It’s sixteen years later. Most people’s lives have changed. And somehow mine still feels the same. Almost everyone I know is married, engaged, pregnant, successful, or famous. I am neither of those things. I still lie here alone crying privately with a broken heart. Waiting for you my dear. Waiting right here because there is nowhere else to go.

Nothing compares to your likeness and nothing ever will. Football and wheat fields, the forever golden boy who dies by train. Farm boy superman. The weight of the world on your shoulders. Bitter beauty and sadness everywhere. Down the first road to your farm, down the dirt road to your pond, under the thunderclouds in the rain. The sky is so big I could lose my mind with love. Love that has nowhere to go.

I get sucked down over and over again in endless cycles and waves of grief. I go up for air and I feel I’m starting to reemerge into the world of the living – feeling some joy, vitality, appreciation for life’s gifts and miracles. Finding myself enjoying commercials, consumerism, romantic comedies, trivial conversations, and celebrity gossip. I feel driven to work, to finish this book,  get the PhD and serve others who feel suicidal, help them find the will to live; the will to love. Things seem to be going well and then I get sucked under by a wave of grief that seems to come out of nowhere and the riptide pulls me back into that place where death is near. I am pulled back into hell. Things that might have brought me brief joy are no longer interesting, no longer happy. I don’t care. My pain is too great and all I want is you.  There is nothing in the world that will bring you back and so there is nothing that can help me.

I pray to see you in my dreams tonight. Give me some relief.


string of moments

August 7, 2010

Today on my way back from rollerblading on the beach, i carried a skate in each hand and walked barefoot through the sand. A crowd of people were gathered in a circle. Portable tables and folding chairs held in place by bags of food were set up a short distance away. A biker going by called out “Is it a funeral?” I stepped a little closer to see.  In the center of the crowd stood a man and a woman dressed in a white wedding dress. As i walked past, the group began to singing softly yet passionately: “And we’ll share this moment… together. And I’ll always love you…forever.” (you know that song Always & Forever, but with a wee twist)

It felt to me like some sort of sign. a low maintenance wedding abundant with love and harmony, and i happened to be walking by just at this precious moment…and i did share it with them, together. what that sign is, i don’t quite know.

i never was really a believer in signs or things like that. but after john’s passing, everything cracked. in my in-between-world state things that used to seem mundane, somehow suddenly, magically became imbued with spirit, with meaning and significance. Like the moment a bird flies across my path, or leaves brush on my head, or the right song plays on the radio at the right time, the wind blowing as if in answer to a particular thought…all have significance, and are all interconnected with me, to me, and through me.

In the cracking of realities, everything shifted. the boundaries between this world and the other side, the realm of spirit, became blurred. and in the depths of this fissure i could feel the pain of everyone and all the sorrow and suffering of the world. it swallowed me up into hell, defying and daring me to hold on as tightly as i can for as long as possible: weeks, months, years, the rest of my life.

And somehow the little things, the birds, the sun, the waves, the songs, the happenstance weddings i stumble upon, the ladybugs at my feet, the flickering of lights in my room, the rainbows, the perfect movie my tv happens to be on …all have a mystical message for me. It’s all significant. the year of magical thinking has become a life of magical seeing. and it’s a bittersweet gift.