I am so grateful for the huge outpouring of support from blog members, friends (both in-person and Internet) coworkers and neighbours. It is incredible how completely surrounded by love we may be, and it just takes a thunderstorm to notice the sunlight (or make a rainbow or some other flowery, overdone but very earnest metaphor!)
I’m experiencing this near-constant state of mind in which I both observe and feel the roller coaster/ bucking bronco/ run-away elephant that is my mothers illness, my own grief and the reactions of friends and family. A part of my is feeling sorrow, and another part of me is just observing that sorrowful experience.
That second, observational part of me is weirdly okay with everything that’s happening.
And an even higher, third part of me observes the contrast between these two seemingly conflicting states of being.
It’s interesting. It reminds me of Plink Plunk saying fascinating.
Another constant in my state of mind is gratitude. I’m so grateful that I’m *not* prostrate with grief. I’m so grateful that yoga and meditation provide respite and relief from everything. I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned and everyone I’ve met.
The day of my mother’s surgery, I was riding my bike to work when my mother’s spirit popped into my consciousness. When I slip into medium mode, I’m not thinking “gee this must mean she’s passed.” I didn’t make that erroneous assumption until the conversation ended, 30 minutes later.
She popped in to show me this time when I was 14 and weeping my heart out over some bullying I’d experienced at school. She showed me this memory and said, “that time you needed a hug; I’m sorry I didn’t give you one.”
Well I stopped my bike, leaned against a chain-link fence overlooking the harbour and just cried my eyes out all over again, feeling the overwhelming love of a “spirit hug” from my mother.
“Call in to work,” she said next. “Then go down to the water.”
I called the hospital to explain I was too upset to come in (I hated to bail on them last minute) and then went down to the public dock in the harbour.
Just as I arrived, a great blue heron took flight off the beach and flew overhead, circled back and flew over again.
“Oh Mom!” And I started crying again.
The great blue heron is a special animal for me and my mother; it was the first animal my mother pointed out to me that meant “everything’s going to be okay.” The first time a blue heron showed himself to me in this way was after my driver’s license road test. I passed… Barely.
I stayed down by the dock talking to my mother. Outside of her body, her spirit is high and light with joy. This is not a frequency I’m used to feeling from my mother, and she showed me her body, and said it makes her feel small.
It does help me to understand why she loves children so much – kids resonate with this frequency of high, bright joy.
As we “talked,” my mother said, “watch this!” And another great blue heron flew out of the mist on the other side if the inlet, crossed over to the dock and landed in a tree twenty feet away.
My mother was giggling. This is the sort if giggle she has when she’s cracking a bad pun or a dark joke. “This is SO EASY!” She said, delighted.
At this point, the sunrise over the harbour began to turn the sky pink. It was very beautiful.
“All this mist, it looks like a ghost town!” My mother cracked.
At this point I the “Kate” part of my brain was pretty sure my mother had crossed over. While in medium mode, I feel only peace – so this was all okay.
I looked at the pink sky, the swirling mist and the two herons and thought, “lets make this moment as magical as possible-”
Just as I finished that thought one of the herons took an enormous and extremely LOUD poop! My mother’s uninhibited, raucous laugh echoed through my head.
This is my mother’s humour – nothing higher and more sacred than toilet humour!
I laughed out loud. I practiced my state of “beingness” which can attract wildlife, and two cormorants flew up to perch on the old dock supports, ten feet from me. Cormorants are some of the funniest birds, and they looked at me tensely, then curiously, finally companionably as one opened his wings in the “warming to the sun” posture that make cormorants iconic.
After a while, my mother said, “I’ve gotta go!” I said goodbye and she left with my grandmother’s spirit – I presumed she was going to the other side.
I rode my bike home fully expecting to receive the call that my mother had died in surgery.
Instead, just minutes after I got home, my sister called to say it was the worst sort of brain tumour.
I reacted like a detached sociopath.
“Okay.” My sister talked on, detail after terrible detail. I was totally cool with everything she said. It was weird.
Of course later, I had and continue to experience a more human reaction.
Some people might be wondering how a psychic could be blindsided with such a major family event. I would like to respond with,
“I knew you were going to say that.”
Ha ha! Get it???
Okay, seriously though. Do you think this skill is something we’re allowed to develop for our own benefit? NO! No one is allowed the “cheat codes” for their life. Mediums are supposed to help people, to participate in and to expedite the healing process.
Remember when I talked about the “faithware upgrade”? Well this is why I needed it – because somehow, I have to just trust that everything is all okay. I may not understand it – it might not see the complete algorithm that demonstrates the balance and beauty in the ugliness of mortality, but I have to trust that it’s there. I just *know* that its there. I feel it with a certainty that permeates every cell in my body and every heartthrob of my soul.
That somehow, in this fucked up tragedy, it’s all beautiful and perfect.