Moving Is Filled With Goodbyes

Goodbye Takes Many Forms

Moving is a time of saying hello to unknown, future adventures.

It's also replete with goodbyes.

Saying Goodbye

Moving means saying farewell to grand things: jobs, co-workers, a house that was a home, friends and family.

There are also goodbyes to little things, those sparkles that brighten one's day. Like loving gestures whispered on the wind and permanently seared upon my heart. Now, without them, a pale cloud of thin sadness drifts over me.

It's the goodbye to a sumptuous farmers market filled with year-round delectable treats. Or the wistful farewell to a food co-op with a bulk section that inspired envy.

Goodbye To The Little Things

It's little conveniences that are figured out over the space of several years. To avoid frustrating freeway backups, I discovered bucolic back roads. I whisked through wide fields dotted with cows and horses, heads bent to the tufts of grass before them.

The car dealership that provided good service (how rare is that?) and courtesy car washes. Or, the best place to buy gas.

The hair stylist. I finally found a good hairdresser after enduring a series of terrible hair cuts. She listened to what I wanted. She knew her trade. My heart sinks to think of the hairdresser-search beginning again.

Goodbye To The Earth

I said goodbye to each plant and tree that I had planted in the front and back yards. I watched them grow and change through five years of seasons.

The maple tree in my front yard grew stronger and straighter than all my neighbors' trees planted at the same time. Maybe the water helped, maybe it was the love. 

That tree had a story. Soon after I moved in, one of the stakes holding the tree broke. The furniture maker who came to adjust a piece of furniture noted its state of disrepair. Without being asked, our goodbyes had already been said and we hadn't mentioned it, he drove back to my place with another one to replace it.

I happened to look out the window to see him at work. Each strike of his mallet on the stake was made with deliberate, careful attention. I didn't walk outside, not wanting to disturb this selfless act of caring. He never knocked on my door, never asked for recompense.

My heart still smiles when I think of it. His stake held tight over time against the fierce, delta winds. My maple tree reached to the sky with that firm support, straight and tall. 

I was able to thank him in person for his thoughtfulness, five years later when I had another piece of furniture to repair. He was sweetly proud of his handiwork and we stood together, admiring "our" straight tree.

I hope the new homeowners appreciate its regal beauty.

Little things, left behind as my car drove out of town.

Goodbye Held In The Heart

Use of The Radiance Technique® (TRT®) – TRT® hands-on supports us, especially when wistful feelings of loss pass over. It's not about making it go away, figuring it out, or shoving it down and putting a ribbon on top. 

It's the simplicity of a hand in your heart as you hold the loss, as you hold the love. The fire accessed with TRT® burns – quiet and steady. We are that fire deep within, burning bright, in gain and in loss.

Goodbye. Hello. The continuum of our lives.

 

When There Is Only Love

When Nothing Is Left

It seems like nothing is left when those you love are gone.

After a death of a loved one, you're particularly clumsy and awkward as if you've acquired a unique ability to trip over any and everything.

When my father died, I would often hear a mantra echoing in my mind, telling me to "just hold on..." as I stumbled through my life. But I didn't know what I was supposed to be holding on to.

And Then I Remembered

There really is nothing to hold on to.

In the end, there is only Love.

And even that, you don't hold on to it. You just "be."

 

iconic image by Robert Indiana, 1960s

 

A Good Day To Be Dying

A Good Day To Be Dying In

 
Today is a good day to be living in;
Today is a good day to be dying in.
— Copyright © Dr. Babara Ray, The Awakening Journey®
 

Bold and profound, even courageous, this quote about living and dying challenges us. Everyone is happy to agree with the first line, but resistance and anger loom up for the second part. “No,” we cry out, “No! It is not a good day to be dying! No to death!”

Believe me, I understand. You can count me amongst the crowd insisting on “no.”

At the cellular level of our bodies, of all organic matter, we are programmed to survive. Programmed to fight death with all we’ve got.

However.

A Final Performance Awaits

Each one of us has been issued a ticket to a last performance.

The very moment we are born, a death sentence is also handed out. It's as if a personal engraved invitation to the event is created, but we can't find the date and time on it.

No matter.

The date and time will find us.

Steve Jobs offered this quote:

 
If you live each day as if it were your last,
someday you’ll most certainly be right.
 

Facing Death At The Hospital

It's one thing to say these words and quite another to live them.

The hospital called when my father was admitted. I figured it was just another "tune-up" admission. He'll be admitted for a few days and then sent back home.

This time, however, the doctor insisted I should come. I asked if my father were dying. She skirted around those words and would only say that it was serious. "You should come."

I hastily booked a plane ticket. “Today is a good day to be living in. Today is a good day to be dying in," I whispered to myself 30,000 feet in the air.

Seeking inner strength and wisdom, I repeated these words like a mantra. I chanted them each morning as I drove to the hospital where my father spent his final days in the intensive care unit.

Get Back, Death

As much as I tried to defy and force back the hovering clouds of Death waiting to lift our dad away from us, I had no personal power to alter the upcoming event.

My father's heart and kidneys were failing. He was, without question, in a dying process; no other options remained.

My failed attempts to battle and then to bargain with Death brought home the realization of just how small I really was.

The only thing left for me to do was to hold my father with TRT® hands-on of The Radiance Technique® (TRT®) and to offer all the love I could muster.

So that's what I did.

Hours Of TRT® Hands-On

I spent hours every day sitting on the hospital bed doing TRT® hands-on with my dad, mostly in his heart center. People would come to visit. While everyone talked, I would keep my hands in his heart and all the while he was receiving universal, healing energy.

With TRT® hands-on, I had a way to hold us, deeply from within. The healing energy of TRT® was not going to "heal" him to stop him from dying. The healing is a balancing of energy that supports many levels – body, mind, emotions, Soul and Spirit.

My dad didn't really have anything to do with TRT®, but he happily accepted TRT® hands-on without further discussion. Without words, he intuitively knew this supported him.

I couldn't beat back Death, but I could hold my dad with universal energy as he walked through that invisible door.

To say I am thankful for the bridge of radiant support that The Radiance Technique® provides doesn't begin to describe my gratitude for this technique.

TRT® gave me a real way to help my father. I wasn't relegated to only words or gestures. Real light that connected to his soul and spirit supported him.

Holding A Vigil

We talked.

As family and friends came to visit him, we recounted stories about the "good old days" and our many adventures together. He was completely past-oriented. When I mentioned something I was going to do in the future, he scarcely heard me. He would pause with a far off look in his eye and immediately return to past events.

Although he didn't eat much, we ordered a few special food requests.

We were blessed to have him for one more week; many people were able to say goodbye.

In the time we still had, it was, indeed, a good day to be living in.

Only Love Remains

My father remained entirely lucid to his last moments. He knew he was dying and accepted this fact with unbelievable equanimity. His calm ability to face the upcoming event took my breath away. His steadiness inspired awe in all who came to see him.

Fully aware his death was coming, he simply asked to not be “hurried along,” then he would add that he didn't want to be a burden either. I did everything in my power to honor his request to not rush the process.

In those last days, with heart-aching wonder, my dad spoke of love like he never had before; how important it is and how essential to tell others that you love them. He worried he had not said it enough.

"Don't worry," we told him, "we knew."

We always knew.

Will It Be Today?

Each day I drove to the hospital to see him, I wondered if that very day would be *the* day of his last breath. "But," I constantly reminded myself, "if this is his day to die, then it will be a good day to be dying in." I told myself it had to be, because it would be his day.

No Matter The Day

Thus it will be for all of us. I wonder if I'll manage to be even half as brave when that final, dying moment comes.

Still, no matter which day I die in, no matter which day any of us die in, it will be a good day to be dying in.

It shall be, it will have to be, because it will be our day.

 

 

* * * * *
My dad's favorite dog, German Shorthaired Pointer
The Dying Lion of Lucerne, Switzerland
Quote by Dr. Barbara Ray used with permission