If I could make fabric of the sky, I’d wrap myself in it.
It would be fine silk and it would flow.
In a warm gentle breeze.
On a boat at sea as the Sun sank on a fine Spring day.
The boat would bring me in to shore.
I would step into cool waves that lapped a quiet beach.
Without at all meaning to and not in the least intending to be morbid, I have just described my ideal vision of the journey home.
The final transition.
Not that I believe it will be so, though there must be great peace in surrendering oneself back into the great energy that drives the Universe.
Back in Washington in the early part of the century, I was guided by a therapist to the Monroe Institute. They were doing interesting work with “expanded consciousness”.
If I had had the time and money I would quite like to have attended one of their seminars. It did not involve taking mind-altering drugs.
They worked with sound. Using audio-guided technology they produced music with a “binaural beat”. You were warned not to listen to such music while driving.
Over time I purchased several of the CD’s which I found very soothing.
The one I liked best is called: The Journey Home.
I keep it downloaded on my PC and of course, having written what I just did, I had to go searching for it.
At the time I moved out to Washington, I had fairly recently lost my dearly beloved aunt, my best friend. The end of her life had been distressingly difficult. I had to hope that she found peace, but I played over and over events of the last months before she died.
All these years later, I have still not really come to terms with it. It is in one of those “drawers” in my mind that doesn’t often get opened.
When I listen to The Journey Home, I always think of Kay and the music brings me to tears but gentle tears, if that makes any sense.
Even if my mind begins to fail, I shall never forget my Aunty Kay.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her.
There are so many memories of her with her Cocker Spaniels, of the fun we had together. Happy times, and managing to laugh, even when times were trying.
But those are the memories I have to go looking for.
They are buried beneath the knowledge that in the end I failed her.
And the memory of her beautiful blue eyes that were so sad as I said my last goodbye. I didn’t know that I would never see her again.
If I had, I could not have walked away.
Kay had a stroke and lost the ability to speak, but I can still hear her sweet voice and her irrepressible giggle.
She was bubbly and funny and naughty. She was generous and kind and talented. Kay loved her dogs so much and she loved me too. She would not want me to torment myself.
There is no therapy and no drug that can cure me of it, but I do find peace in the beauty of Nature which Kaysie loved too.
And there is peace in music.
When I took pictures yesterday as it grew dusk, I was not feeling sad. I was enjoying the changing colours and textures of the sky.
And when I sat down to write I did not expect to end up here.
The mind is a tricky thing.
Best friend ever.
Thank you, Carolyn, for your moving memories about your beloved Aunt.
I loved the picture of you two and the little dog. .
Joanna
Your story today was just beautiful. Thank you for sharing it. -Gladys
When we look back it is impossible to feel completely happy about the way we dealt with those who are no longer with us. We all feel (if we feel at all) that we somehow fell short. It’s part of being human. It’s part of why they loved us in the first place…
Thank you Colin
I love your poem…. It’s holds such a lovely and peaceful promise for the future.
I love the memories you have your Aunt Kay, it reminds me of my G’ma Kaye who crosses my mind often – what you wrote this morning left me with warm comforting thoughts. Thank you
What a lovely post today Carolyn, not that your posts ever vary from being lovely! I’ve been reading recently about human composting which, at the moment, is illegal in UK. In America I believe only about five states allow it! Sounds good to me though. Have you experienced a sound bath? My niece offers these as part of her wellbeing sessions and they look and sound great. Example here:
https://youtu.be/Bw1a-pZ7Ua4
Yes, I love the idea of human composting. The notion of a tree growing out of my remains is very appealing. I’m not sure if it’s Connecticut that allows it. My body is to be offered to medical science. I thought it might be of interest to see what happens to a spine that has been fused, but I think they will probably say “no thanks, we don’t need scrag end”! So then aquamation. Whatever is the least bother!
It surely must become a standard process in future!
If you could make that fabric you describe, I would be the first in line to buy from you! I think I would have liked your Aunty Kay (because she sounds like someone who was great to be around … and because she had cocker spaniels 🙂 ). Lovely picture of you, her and the doggie. I think your beautiful photos in today’s post are a fitting tribute to Aunty Kay.
Every time you mention your cocker spaniels I think of the ones I lived with,. One was black (Jill) the others all blonde. Kay was just lovely.
Your aunt lives on, thanks to your memories of her. That is a good thing, something we can all wish for after our passing from this life.
Best wishes, Pete.