In Front of the Old Man's Business

The Thing About My Dad's Dying...

It's so ugly, and so not how I would have wanted my dear Dad to go out. But of course, it was all his co-creation with the Divine, and everything that has happened was for a reason, which God will reveal to me over time.

so I'm basically at peace with it, and I feel VERY strongly that my Dad is totally at peace with ALL of it.

Time really does heal.

And only LOVE ever dispelled Hate, so said the Buddha. Thus I am bathing the whole situation in LOVE, although it's so tempting to get sick and to hate.

Bodhi helps the healing.

It breaks my heart to know that my Dad so wanted to move to Austin, to spend time with his grandson, whom he only had the chance to meet once. Breaks my heart, but I know it's God's design and not mine.

I packed up his recording studio all by myself, well, I hired movers and they packed it up under my direction, and we moved it all. 30 years of my Dad's BELOVED work all gone in one afternoon. Bodhi was with me all day while they packed it. And it felt like I got to spend one last day with my Dad.

I was with him the night into morning before he died. I told him everything I needed to say, and then some. I was his yoga teacher at the end. I told him about the breath, about the life force, and about surrendering his breath back to Shakti. He was in and out of consciousness, but I breathed with him, and I loved him, and I took in every drop of his suffering, his labored breathing, his twitching, the thinness of his body, how he cried out, how he opened and closed his eyes, how his teeth hurt and how utterly naked and vulnerable he was. I loved him in every single second of it. There was, there is, no part of his life that I do not treasure and hold dear. And then he died without us, just before we arrived, which was perfect. I felt him go. We were in the car, stuck in traffic, on a Saturday morning in Houston, and I felt the ecstasy of his leaving. Absolute freedom, moksha. The ultimate surrender. What an act of courage to die after such pain, to let go and let God just take him. And when they moved his annamaya kosha, his body, into the hearse, to take him away, the sky darkened for a few moments and it rained. Just a little. During the transition from house to funeral home.

So that's what happened.

It sucks, and yet it's perfect. Kind of like Bodhi's birth. I'm so grateful to have experienced all of it.

I had a premonition of him dying. None of us really knew how sick he was. Earlier this year, in March, we took Bodhi to meet his great grandmothers, and my dad's mother (92 years old and kicking!) told us that my Dad's first words, when he just over a year old, came out as a full sentence. He walked into the bathroom where my grandpa was shaving and said "Daddy, did you call me?" Which was not only astonishing for such a young child to say, but gave me chills when she told us about it. I knew that his Daddy, who died some years ago, was truly calling him, now.

So I'm sad, but can see the humor in things. I've been dreaming of my Dad, being with him, just hanging with him, and it's been great.

I have been a rock. This has shown me what I am made of, and I have to say that I am pretty fucking amazing. And so is my brother, who is the funniest person on the planet, yet so tenderhearted and strong. And my husband, who was right there with us. And my best friend Donna, also with us, supporting us. And my sister in law, who seems to know how to take care of everyone and everything and is so wise and compassionate.

Birth and Death, all within months of one another. I feel like I'm finally a full human being. No longer a child. A mother. Next on the Death Wheel. Enjoying the Life Wheel. I'm so lucky to have had my Dad for 44 years.

If this sounds morbid and dark, believe me, it's nothing compared to some of the thoughts I'm having. But I'm definitely not depressed, or PTSD like I thought we'd all be.

It's just that now there is hole in my life where my father used to be.