Dancing in Heaven

Yesterday I called my deceased client’s son to inform him of his mother’s passing. He wanted nothing to do with her. She had not been a good mother. He had been very apprehensive and verbal about his feelings of wanting nothing to do with her.

We spoke about her passing, her last weeks, the care Hospice provided for her. I told him how much his mother changed my life. He couldn’t grasp it. I explained, through tears, that his mom made me believe in the shift of humanity. He stayed quiet. He never saw his mother as humane. I told him that I believe we all have the conscious choice to change even in a dying bed.

I asked him to keep an open mind and hear my story, the journey from beginning to end with her. He heard me, carefully taking in the small details of forgiveness and letting go. He heard my story of the hospital visits, the sitting with her and asking to let go of the past. He asked if she mentioned him. I told him that she did many times. He cried. I wish I had been in front of him to hold him, allow him to truly feel the feels of it all.

At the end of our conversation we both sobbed on the phone. He thanked me for loving his mother. In spite of her being a challenge she was a tremendous teacher of accepting and forgiveness. She allowed me to love her without rejecting the harshest of energies.

Today he called me back. He said that through my stories he felt he met another woman who could have been his mother. He told me he shared with his father who is in his mid nineties. His father couldn’t believe the stories. And this happens when we’ve experienced a completely different life. It’s well expected! We live through the lens of our perception. There is no point of reference for them to experience her change.

But…she now touched not just me, but her only son and ex-husband. She touched the folks in the facility. She touched the nurses in hospice and several volunteers. She had evolved into something miraculous in transformation.

She asked me on several occasions about death and what happens when you take your last breath. I answered her to the best of my experience, but is my experience and not hers. I am sure that she released all she needed to let go. By the time she reached that other realm she had evolved into a divine soul. I can imagine her dancing in heaven.

I’ve been so blessed. I keep being gifted the opportunities to be with these souls right around the time they need to transition. To hear their stories, have their hearts connect with mine, and feel love without ego…I cannot imagine anything more intimate.

Do not give up on love. The toughest to love are usually the ones who need it the most. You do not have to do anything but send them loving energy. We don’t have to enable them. We don’t have to accept abuse. We don’t have to allow hurt. We can set healthy boundaries. But, you have a responsibility to love and forgive in order to evolve into your greatness. Love them from here. Love them from there. Just love. Forgive. Let go. That’s all you need to do. Your life will be changed forever. ~m.a.p.

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Struggles…

Many years ago…12 to be exact…I was experiencing a struggle with my eldest daughter. She arrived into my life at the age of 11-1/2 from Romania. And with her came a lot of secrets and demons. She suffered from multiple personalities and deep wounds. There was no way to reach her regardless of all the love and security I provided. At the age of 18, finishing high school, she plotted to hurt me and some other family members. The heartache those days was immense. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced up to that moment in my life.

My son’s friend’s mother came over to get him one day. I shared my struggle through tears and heartbreak. She took me aside (a woman who truly didn’t know me that well even though our boys were super close) and she shared a personal story about her eldest son. She told me, while holding me, that sometimes we had to let go in order to continue helping our other children. Up to that moment I didn’t know anyone who had undergone things that broke the mama heart that profoundly. Whether it was addiction, mental illness, or whatever…I had not known someone personally who was navigating through similar experiences.

I listened to her. She had been at this for years. I felt her own release in that conversation. I listened so much that, now 12 years later, I can still remember her words of wisdom. This woman just lost her son a few days ago. That said son who was struggling with his own demons. And as I write this I swear my heart breaks even deeper. A parent should never, ever, have to do what she’s had to do this week. I know he’s finally at peace. She does too but there is always the uncertainty of how much we did or didn’t do to fix and save our loved ones. The doubts creep up and we are consumed by the unknown of it all. It’s hard to decipher what is real and what is not. Guilt and shame are familiar emotions that push the grief up. It’s all part of healing and letting go.

I know without a shadow of a doubt, that when someone has these struggles the only thing you can do for them is hold space. The loss is inexplicable. It’s unreal and I cannot imagine how my friend is holding herself up this week. So I pray and send loving light to her and her family since she’s not near me (although I wish I was with her at the moment). I keep meditating and hold her heart in mine. No one knows what another endures…not what she had to do for her son, not what I’ve had to for my own children. We have little windows we show to the world, but behind closed doors and blinds the truth of it is quite different. I am blessed to have had her 12 years ago to help me navigate my own grief, shame and guilt because I was completely lost. I had to let my daughter go. I had to love her from afar and continue to do so daily because she refuses the love. In the end I had to put my energy into those in my house who were willing to receive the love and security. And it continues…

That’s all we are asked to do: love and serve those who receive it (who are willing to accept it). We can’t fix or help those who don’t want it. It’s like hitting yourself against a giant boulder while the ocean smashes against you over and over. It’s pure insanity.

I love you, my dear friend. You know who you are…you will always be the words of wisdom when I struggle through my own little demons of guilt for not doing more…. I am here!!!!!

Your Loss is Felt

We went to Yorktown in Charleston, South Carolina. My husband loves the Navy, having been a corpsman in his youth. He wanted us to see the ships there. I have a hard time entering places with stagnant energy. It was hard to be in the ships. Lots of memories stored in the small spaces. A lot of times I just went outside.

We were up on top. My husband went to see the planes. I sat on a bench. The heat was horrible this past weekend. A woman asked if she could share the bench with me. I scooted over and we sat there in silence.

“It’s so hot here!” She said. “I’m melting away.”

“Here it’s okay. It’s an oven in there. I don’t know how these souls do it while out at sea. I admire their dedication. After seeing this I have a whole new respect for them.” I shared this as she began to fan herself with her hand.

“My son was in the Military.”

Her head lowered and I felt the grief. I felt her loss immediately in between the gaps of breath. I felt that inexplicable break that arrives when your heart has been ripped apart. Nothing else was said.

I went closer to her. Held her hand and said I was sorry. I looked into her.

There on a deck we sat in quietude. It was short lived when out little girl ran over to me. I let go of her and she thanked me. She got up and met her husband to leave. But I didn’t let go of her heart until that evening when we finally arrived home.

We have stories within stories. Some we share. Others we vault up in compartments that allow us to survive. The scars are deep and sacred. They connect us through humility and other levels of faith.

My heart goes out to all you folks who have lost someone. I can promise you that they are always with you. A part of them is left inside the cellular walls of your heart. You are never alone in your struggle. There are threads of love stitching us all together.

I’m here. I see you. I feel you. Others do as well. I love you. ~m.a.p.

Anger and Grief

Last week I re-read a memoir I started writing many years ago after an accident that erased my memory. Now, so many years later, returning to it caused me a great amount of emotional distance and the ability to finish it. Life has truly had some wonderful turn of events. But after reading it I was deeply angry for several days. On the drive to the beach I shared the range of emotions with my hubby. I explained I wasn’t so much angry with those who hurt me as I was with myself for allowing it to go on for so many years. We talked about those things in the intimate manner that only someone who knows the real you can support.

Slowly the anger showed up as grief. I mourned the parts I lost. But I also rejoiced in all that I gained. I sat with those things outside last night under the yummy scenery and let go. With every mosquito bite, or chiggers sucking at me, I released parts of the grief. I left them by the river. I allowed the new me to emerge through self-compassion.

That’s the thing about time and anger: it disguises itself in the most perfect of ways. I’ve done a LOT of release this year, huge strides in healing. I’ve mostly forgiven me. And in that surrender I have met some deeply powerful and authentic humans. Because of doing the work, I am meeting magnificent mirrors. I love you all. I get to see the real me through such divine guidance.

Allow yourself the gift of surrendering, sitting with the emotions, and making friends with them. Send them love. Don’t sensor your waves of ups and downs. That’s the soul expressing itself through spiritual growth.

You must confront those things in order to let them go.

Memorial Day

One of the places I looked forward to seeing in Washington DC was the Vietnam Memorial Wall. I walked it crying. My husband took this picture and I realize I was in a moment of grief trying to walk through the crowd. It was too much. Thousands of names that fought for our country. It was especially touching on this Memorial Day Weekend. I am not a person really bothered by death as I feel it’s a transition we will all reach. But, to feel the energy there was overwhelming to me. It was suffocating. Even now as I write this my heart aches. I couldn’t go see the other memorials. I know from the beginning till the end of time there will be wars. And I will never truly understand it. The beautiful statue was one that pulled my heart strings.

I pray that one day in the future our world can find peace and we will never have to bury thousands of men and women in the name of war.

Thank you to all the men and women who have courageously served this great nation. You are all heroes who triumph over the worst of circumstances. You truly show us what bravery, dignity and integrity stand for. ~m.a.p.

Your Eye from Heaven

The moon peeks through the window —

one eye opened to the world.

I close mine, put a thumb over the light

and it disappears as I think of you

on the other side of the Universe

doing exactly the same, smiling

at my childlike gestures.

I switch hands,

winking quickly,

blocking the light with me,

manipulating it to go left,

right and back to you

pretending to play ping-pong

through the cosmos.

I caress the left side of the bed,

white sheets illuminating the emptiness

as bright as the moon.

Where would we be on such a night

if we could magically reunite

through this place and there?

Would you be here or, I,

on the other side of wonderland?

I open both eyes,

focus on the shadows of trees,

the wind blowing gently,

water dancing to the

twinkles of midnight diamonds.

I miss you in my lack of sleep,

the energy from gravitational pull,

the anxiety from dead memories,

but thoughts pour out

through carefully chosen tears

radiating from Eternity,

masquerading as your touch

on my hands and cheeks.

Every month I search for you

while following the giant eye

in the night sky.

Every so often clouds form closure

and I find you winking from that

other place you now call home.