With Us

At 9:23 a.m. the weather was perfect for a walk. My feet longed to feel the trail beneath my shoes. My heart longed even more. The last few weeks have been challenging. I couldn't figure out why the beginning of this school year was so difficult for me. Inside, I was frustrated, struggling. I was not my own best friend nor a friend to any one. My universe had imploded and I was trapped on a dust speck of one, just me. This morning on my Just 10 walk, as I stepped off the inches, the pieces started to fall into place. Each time I met a familiar stranger on the trail my world began to expand. I was not alone on my dust speck. I had to look up to see. People were all around me.

My father died ten years ago on Labor Day. I hadn't realized that the anniversary was affecting me until my sister, Janet, posted a note about still missing him. Reading it, my eyes filled with tears. When Dad, died my son, Andrew was only 3 months old. The needs of the living outweighed the need to grieve. For several years, after my father's death, every time I heard an ambulance siren my eyes would fill with tears. I knew I hadn't really taken time to miss him. This morning I tried to walk with him again.

I still talk to many relatives that have left his world. My grandmothers often visit me in my dreams. Always I'm a bit surprised to see them. They appear at a family gathering. I sit down next to them and tell them, "You're not supposed to be here, Grandma, you're dead." They always smile and then with a tone of solemn authority correct me, "Just because we're dead, it doesn't mean we're not here. We still care, we still love and in that way are very much alive and always with you with all of our family." Of course in my dreams this is totally normal and I accept their statement as fact and go about enjoying their company.

When I think of those that have gone when I'm awake, I connect with a very different consciousness. Death has altered them. They are transformed, not of this world yet still concerned with their families well being. I often toss a prayer to them, usually begging for their assistance. They say very little but I feel them, patient, watchful, loving. While I still feel my father's love, a transformed more unconditional love, I rarely hear him speak in my heart. Today on my walk, I felt like I needed to hear him, to be reassured. Life has been hard. It's harder to keep smiling, to hope, to move forward.

He walked with me, hovering at a distance, a bit too far for me to really grasp. I felt alone. As I walked, I began to remember the morning that my father died. The phone woke me from a deep sleep. My father had come to me in my dreams. In my dream, I was on a world tortured by natural disasters, a companion and I kept narrowly escaping death. I looked back to see horrible devastation and destruction everywhere. I wanted to give up. Escape seemed impossible. I spotted a ship loading survivors. I raced toward it. Just as I was walking up the gangplank, I looked back and saw my father. He was old, leaning on a cane. He wasn't going to reach the ship before it set sail. I went back to help him. He smiled and said, "No, it's my time but it's not yours. You must get on that ship. I will be just fine."

For once, I listened to him without question. From the deck of the ship, I looked back. Through my tears, I could see my dad waving good bye. Smiling he said again. "I'm going to be just fine and so are you." When the phone rang and woke me that morning, I already knew why my mother was calling This dream helped prepare me for the loss. I still cried at his funeral. Saying goodbye was not easy.

At the luncheon after, I passed my infant son to many arms eager to hold him. Life was going on for me. It would be alright. This is the message I continue to receive from my father. It's the message I received this morning. I was less than satisfied. "Dad," I whined, "What does that mean? Ten days from now, ten years, at my death?" Silence. I am alone with my thoughts. My awareness of all that have gone before hangs around the edge of my awareness. I want more. I want reassurance. I want a miracle to knock me off my feet. It doesn't come. I know that this is just as it should be. My time for transcendence has not yet come. I am firmly anchored to earth, to being human and to all the problems that are rooted in my human limitations. A miracle would knock a crater in my path. It is not meant to be. I must keep going, sometimes stumbling in the dark.

As I turned the final corner before returning home, I realized that my walk and my attempt to get reassurance from loved ones who'd gone before, had been rewarded. No miracles, few words, my heart was only slightly lighter, my worries still with me but there was a subtle difference in me. My world had gotten bigger. I was no longer trapped in a universe of one. I was not alone. Love walked with me today, a love that conquers death. This love will be with me as I face what lies ahead. Thanks, Dad. I know you're still with me. Everything will be ok.