The last day of 2012. I want to be very mindful today. Very quiet. I want to be in prayer and meditation. I want to be in deep, deep gratitude. I want to listen and, if I can, hear the whisper of the universe, the OM. Please dear God, let me hear you today.
I woke up early, and tearful. Thinking of Dickey. It’s a hard time of year to lose someone. The cold. The dark. The wanting to pull in and hunker down already with me. I can’t help wondering where she has gone, even though I read every day that we are not our bodies. She is not gone, they say. She is somewhere. But I don’t know this. Maybe she’s nowhere, and when we say her spirit abides we are saying it exists in that we remember her. Is that enough? But if she is still somewhere, is she aware? Is she awake? Is she fulfilled? Is she peaceful? Does she forgive me? Does her gossamer essence float around the universe looking for a suitable form to take? Maybe a Siamese cat.
I loved her inadequately. I did not tend to her well. I judged her. And I dismissed her. I despair over the actions of my own heart. Maybe, just maybe, in her going I have grasped her innate generosity and wisdom. Her leaving has broken my heart, softened it, shown me how feeble I am, how inadequate. How is it possible that my heart feels her presence more now that she is gone? Is this the way it’s supposed to be?
The light is appearing in my back yard on this the last day of 2012. Once again it will fill my little garden with color and vibrancy. I will get up and make a pot of coffee. I will wash the dishes, walk the dog, weed the garden. My heart will beat. My lungs will breathe. My head will ache. And I will take this almost imperceptible little ache and turn it into a gift for my sister. This ache will remind me that she lived, that she laughed, that she was good and kind and loving. I will remember her. And my heart breaks with gratitude that she walked the earth for sixty-one years.
I dedicate this next year of my life to Lynn Dickey, a beautiful woman of little education who loved more and deeper in her lifetime than I will in ten lifetimes. I will listen for her spirit to speak to me. I will emulate her loving-kindness as best I can. I will honor her. I will be a good sister. Or is it too late?
May God have grace on me.