Prompt #7--Saying Goodbye

 Response to prompt #7 of Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones Deck.

What will you have to say goodbye to when you die?

The first answer that came was READING. I no longer will be able to know someone else's thinking on a subject or read a story that will help me know how to be a better person. I think it's weird it was the first thing I thought of, but this morning I've been planning my reading going forward.

Of course, if it happened now I'd have to say goodbye to Jim and all my friends and family and neighbors. But that goes without saying, right?

Or do I stay with them in some way, shape, or form? It's a possibility!

I'll miss wine and sushi and MUSIC--although, again...will I know music on the other side? It's possible, I suppose, being as heavenly as it is.

I'll miss going to the library. Yoga class. Driving in my car listening to Classic Vinyl, going somewhere I really want to go.

I'll miss the Grand Ol' Opry. The woods. Spotting an eagle or a swallow-tailed kite in the sky.

I'll miss ART. This past Friday I saw some spectacular art that really wowed me. How unfair it will be gone from my vision.

Some things I'll miss I have already pretty much said goodbye to -- The Blue Ridge Mountains. Nashville.

Oh, but the classroom interactions -- the really good ones, memorable ones. My own classroom and college. Everyday jokes with co-workers.

And laughter.

Everywhere I Am

 

I had been having a rather rough Father’s Day. This time of year is always tough, as my father made his transition in May 31, 1998 and his 69th birthday would have been that June 23rd. Father’s Day is always plopped right in between. We get to this time of year and it’s dad reminders everywhere.

The 25th anniversary was noted, but since I was traveling, the day passed without too much thinking about the relevance of it.  My sister and I visited his grave the next day, something I rarely do. His birthday will come again this Friday, and my 68th birthday in August. You can bet I’m thinking about how short his life really was, as I enter the same year that took him away.

Today I cried early on, and then did my best to let it go. Later, my sister Margie texted me her sadness at the moment I was reading the above Facebook comment my friend Kara had reposted. I told Margie I was feeling similar sadness, and perhaps it is the rain and lack of sun that was adding to it for me. I sent her the post, and she loved it as much as I did.

I was glad to have the Sunday yoga and meditation class to rest my mind and body into, and was happy that my favorite teacher, Linda, would be doing the class today. The thing is, Linda forgot the key to the studio at home and so we decided to have a short class outside, right there in the outdoor hallway next to a fountain and under a canopy. The rain had stopped, but it was still overcast and there was a cool breeze, a real blessing in our area in June.

Linda had brought her crystal bowls, and so after some movement we settled into a crystal bowl meditation. The rain began again, pitter-patting on the canopy above us, adding to the ethereal crystal vibrations and the bird sounds and the water fall of the fountain. It was then I remembered the post. I looked at the moment and realized that my father was here. Hadn’t I been the one silently asking for rain all week to cool things down? It was an answered prayer.

 I looked further, and could see him in the yoga and the bowls and the cool breeze. It had all come together in an unusual and spectacular way. Once I looked, really looked into the moment,  I could see he is everywhere I am.

And I knew despite the way it sometimes appears, nothing has ever been lost.