Tomorrow marks the first anniversary of my friend Roger’s passing. It was as shocking as it was sudden. No illness or warning. No chance to prepare or say goodbye. His massive heart gave way to immortality and instantly he was gone.
I have long been fascinated by such transitions. I have known several people that have exited embodiment in a similar way. My fascination is in my own inquiry as to whether there is any indication for them that death was imminent. Was there any notion, any awareness that the end of this lifetime was about to come to a close? Did the last goodbye with loved ones somehow feel unique, more precious, more vital? Was there an extended embrace, a lasting gaze, and a one-last-time look of love?
Though I didn’t frame it in such a way I vividly remember my final experience of Roger in this realm. I did not have one-to-one interaction that day. Though from a distance it was somehow both infinite and intimate, usual and extraordinary. I was doing what I do, and Roger was being Roger in relationship to my expression. Yet it was curious, profound, memorable. He captured my attention in a way that I am rarely riveted while doing my work.
And that was our goodbye in this level of experience.
One of the myriad gifts from this and my many lifetime goodbye’s is the reoccurring awareness that I never know when an embrace will be the last. When the words I speak will be the final declaration to those around me. When my unconsciousness will haunt me because of how I ended a relationship, not knowing the reactivity would be a farewell address. When the time I did not take the time would result in no more time.
If this were my own last day on earth, how would I consciously show up? How long might I choose to embrace, linger, gaze, and intentionally give love? How might I gift others with the legacy of my final memory? What would I regret not being, doing, giving, and contributing? How might I allow the ordinariness of this very day be an extraordinary series of precious moments?
Having survived three life-threatening illnesses I am gifted with the mindfulness that in a real and relative way tomorrow is not promised. This is augmented by the fact that I have far more people on the other side than I do on this. Roger joined a host of loves that though physically gone are vitally a part of my present day living.
A precious part of my remembrance of them is in knowing that I do not know when I will join them in that Luminous state of pure being. I think and feel that I am prepared. I do not fear death, though the process of how that might happen continues to give me pause.
Being prepared to die is what makes me more able to fully live. More awake to my inner-action and interactions. More conscious of how I show up, relate, respond. More decisive of my energetic last will and testament to this life.
My last will is to love. My lasting testament is that though I have loved imperfectly and have suffered loss repeatedly I still chose to love. I have not allowed continued hurts to keep within me a closed heart. I have needed to set boundaries and even to remove people from my direct sphere of experience. But I did not confuse boundary with essential belonging. I have chosen to continue to consciously bless even if it needed to be from a distance.
And if these are the final words I ever share please know that this my life has been a wondrous and grand adventure. I have willed to love and that is a testament to the Power of Source in a human experience. And I am grateful that you have been a part of it.
