We’d like to show the side of the world you don’t normally see on television.
Gratitude, latitude and the passing of time in this material Universe. Now, the holiday over and the bones of the turkey boiled for soup stock, I have a few minutes to reflect on holidays past, those who have transitioned on and what life means in terms of the person I have become. Memories...
This was the second Thanksgiving celebration without my eldest grandson, Christopher (having passed in his sleep in April at the age of 23, 2 and ½ years ago). An unrecognized heart condition sent him into the next cycle of life,
where-ever that might be. It's a strange and disturbing thing to see the inheritors of the future pass before they've actually had the chance to fully launch in this lifetime.
Christopher was a Gemini, his sun placed conjunct my natal Uranus... sudden change... sudden separation. He was bright and social (over 460 friends showed up for the wake, the funeral was attended by a third more than that) and he
communicated. He engaged people from every strata and walk of life. He sought to know every sinner, saint and stranger who crossed his path... he was curious about everything he encountered. He was an evolving Buddha in his own right.
I am grateful for having had him in my life, and for the time spent in deep conversation with the 8 year old and the 10 year old and the 16 year old, his stages in life giving me perspective of my stages in life. His curiosity an opening to answer questions and dialog about the width and breadth and depth of life in all It's facets and form. Looking for the meaning of it all...
I remember one October when he was 9 and wanted to know what happened when a person dies. I could tell that it was a disturbing thought and so we took a stroll in a nearby forest preserve, where trees seemed to be a good analogy to
use about the cycle of awakening... the growing, the decay and the return to the land. I asked him, “Do you remember what it was like before you were born?”
“No.” he answered.
“Well, it's pretty much the same when you die...”, I continued, “There are a
number of folk who tell you "it's like this" or "like that", but, really, it's each person's unique journey. It's like waking and not remembering what you were dreaming about, then falling asleep again and having another dream.”
That seemed to be OK with him and the subject changed to lighter dialog. Yet somehow, I always remembered that conversation as being an intuitive flash that
touched on past and future... a brief moment where he sensed events not that far away.
Last year at Thanksgiving and again at Christmas I felt his presence, lingering, perhaps wishing to join the festivities. This year a void... encouraging me to believe that he has awakened somewhere in the Universe, bright... curious and ready to claim the waking life again.
Nothing is ever lost that is real. Love expressed and shared is the singular reality
we all can embrace as the one Universal constant... before time began and continuing eternally after time winds down. It makes it all right to be born... and to die, and to fashion life's manifestation into infinite forms; unending expressions... fading memories that are carried like brittle leaves on autumn winds into oblivion.
To my friends and family and you, dear reader... know that I love you all, and that's what makes for “thanks” on this post Thanksgiving day.