Before I left Maui I did some healing work with my friend, and more clearing on my broken heart. The death of my partner, Kent, shattered my world on all fronts. My present and future were completely destroyed, and now a new life is slowly being rebuilt. It was very powerful to acknowledge that my heart is still broken, and to do some further work on clearing the pain so I can move on. Clearing pain and denying pain are very different actions. I wanted to experience my grief fully as of way of honoring my husband, honoring the experience we lived together, and honoring life. I did not want to deny the pain. If I had wanted to deny the pain, I could have used drugs. That was not my choice. Then there comes a time in the grief process where you need to release the pain, and move on. That is also a decision I am making. I do not want to stay stuck and continue whatever time I have left here with only half of my heart.
The color for this healing was indigo, and the scent was tea tree oil which I chose at random, but which was one of Kent’s favorite things to use. He used it all the time, and the smell of the oil brought his memory back clearly. I put a few drops in my carry on to remember. It does seem contradictory to let go of the pain of his loss by bringing up sensual memories; the answer is that it is important to remember those we love beyond the pain of their loss, to remember the love and joy we felt from them.The day I was flying out, I did a sweat lodge and had what I can only call a vision. A waking dream. I saw my ancestors including my grandmother (mother) from West Virginia who I only met once, and whose name I can never remember. My grandfather (mother) from West Virigina, who I also met once on a visit to Campbell’s Creek, and whose first name I also can’t remember. There was my red-headed grandma Serena (father) who babysat me when I was a child, and who visited us when I was a teenager. She’s one of the few adults I really felt close to, and that I felt cared for me in my childhood. She was from Casper, Wyoming. Then my grandfather (father) John, who died of black lung from the coal mines in Harlan County, Kentucky when my dad was young. I saw my mom, Hazel, standing by them all looking exactly as she had when I went to stay with her after she broke her hip; sad, lonely, and frightened, but with some inner defiance. And my dad, Doug, who had regained his youth and stood tall and handsome. They were all standing in a line as clear and alive as if they were right in front of me. I could see every detail of them. They were quietly looking at me. I saw my 2nd mom,
Adele, and I believe she was the only one who was smiling. I also saw my hanai (step) grandma Tamam, Adele’s mother. She was Lebanese, and was very kind to me when I was a confused, sad teenager; and her husband Joseph who I didn’t have much interaction with, but he was a gentle man. I saw Kent’s father, George, who I was very close to and who adopted me into his heart. We used to sit and read together, and he looked as he had when he was still healty in his 70’s and riding bicycle on Hanalei road. Then I saw Kent appear in the center of them all; alive, whole, vibrant as he was when we first met and fell in love. All the sickness and disease gone from him, he stood tall in the center and my ancestor’s formed a semi-circle around him, facing me. I slowly put my hand to my heart and pushed my arms out to him, with the pieces of my heart pulsing in my hands. Kent took my heart in his hands, while looking deep in my eyes with all the love he always had for me, and then he closed his palms and pressed the pieces back together. Still looking into my eyes, he held out my heart in his hands. Crying, I took my whole heart back and placed it in my chest. I took a deep breath that felt like the first full breath I had taken since Kent died, and when I let out the air, I felt so light; like spirit. The vision faded and I felt intense heat throughout my body. This was my vision