I'm not sure if it's the news of my Grandfather recently being diagnosed stage four cancer or one my really good friends Mother passing away just recently, but our connection to family has been on my mind.
Death has always brought me mixed feelings...
When I was 3 years old I actually witnessed my adopted father pass away. He was shot by one of our female roommates living with us at the time. Story goes that she was really behind in rent money, they had quite a few heated arguments about it, and one day out of fear of not being able to pay him the money she owed or fear of being evicted (and I'm sure for many other reasons) she decided to pulled out a gun, shoot him three times, and then run out the door. I watched my father fall onto his bed where I climbed onto him and could feel his breath and whole body start to go into shock. Even though I was young, and my adopted mom wasn't home at time, I reached for the phone and dialed 911 for an ambulance. I just laid there with him on his chest (which I think is part of the reason why I'm drawn to a males chest so much) and waited for help to come.
What was interesting was the way my father started to pass. He was calm and tried to look into my eyes as if to say do not be frightened, and for the last lesson a parent could give their child, accepting death as part of life was the most power lesson I have ever learned.
From that moment on I felt as if I grew up at a much faster rate, like a primitive "survival switch" had been turned on. My adopted mom has always been supportive of me, but I felt like this tragic experience is and always has been part of my journey of independence, a lesson of strength and fearlessness, and until you go through some life-changing experience, you think of your body, your health and everything else in your life as something that will always be there for you. In Sanskrit (one of the oldest languages, commonly used in yoga) the term for this idea is called Avidya or ignorance, mistaking the impermanent for the permanent.
While I often think of how different my life would have been growing up with a male figure in my life, I think it's been a beautiful experience so far without one. I didn't even start to feel emotional for his passing until I was much older. I think it was when I was in more committed relationships as an adult that I started to develop expectations of a what a boyfriend in my life "should" be. Looking back now, I realize I was in a few relationships where I was looking for them to be my love, my friend, but also my father. Not until my trip to India (I'll share with you in another post), did I finally start to understand that we come into this world alone and we die alone, and that we can only be responsible for ourselves. What a weight that had lifted in my life, I will always be strong enough on my own, and that the purpose of a man in my life is that he can just be himself.
Being raised by my grandmother and adopted mom, who I really just call mom (they adopted me since the day I took my first breath), I give both of these powerful women in my life a lot of credit. Mom if you are reading this... I love you soo much and Gma I know you don't have a computer nor a cell phone, (but it doesn't matter because I swear we heave telepathy), always love to you as well <3
Everyone else, if you've actually read this far, well... thank you. I have always loved to journal, and blogging is going to be a new way for me to do sort of the same thing. More of the output so there's what I call "room for rent" or new space available in my head for new input.
Love,
A
