We were completing her FAFSA (college financial aid) together last night. The 17-year old had to create answers to 5 security questions. The final one: Who is your best friend?
I wondered, will she say Bailee or Erin?
Her answer surprised me: “Ava.” Her sister.
This prompt brought me to the source of our strongest emotions of late: grieving. My father was diagnosed with lung cancer on April 1st and passed away on July 11th. In that short span of time, I stayed with my parents a lot in Georgia, away from my desert home in Arizona. The colors of the lush foliage surrounded me as I took walks as breaks from caregiving. Friendly neighbors smiled and waved and I felt welcome and an unexpected sense of peace.
*creativebug.com (Sokol)
The answer to every “problem” is presence.
“With the contemplation of the impermanence of the human form, something very deep and peaceful opens up inside you. That is why I enjoy going to cemeteries. When you accept the impermanence, out of that comes an opening within, which is beyond form. That which is not touched by death, the formless, comes forward as you completely accept the impermanence of all forms. That’s why it is so deeply peaceful to contemplate death.
If someone close to you dies, then there is an added dimension. You may find there is deep sadness. The form also was precious, although what you loved in the form was the formless. And yet, you weep because of the fading form. There too, you come to an acceptance – especially if you are already familiar with death, you already know that everything dies – then you can accept it more easily when it happens to somebody close to you. There is still deep sadness, but then you can have the two dimensions simultaneously – the outer you weeps, the inner and most essential is deeply at peace. It comes forward almost as if it were saying “there is no death”. It’s peace.”
Eckhart Tolle
Ultimate paradox: When you focus on the giving, you get so much more.
I pack my daughters’ lunches on school days. Yes, they’re teenagers and could do it themselves and no, I’m not spoiling them. I do it because it really is a pleasure for me.
Monday, I packed chicken quesadillas. I used Costco shredded cheese. Literally, it says “Mexican Blend Cheese“:
Ava comes home and says, “The Mexican boys at my table saw my lunch and asked me why you use yellow cheese. I told them that I have a Korean mom.”
Tuesday, I packed garlicky pasta. Because I’m so nice and thoughtful, I taped a piece of gum on the thermos:
No comment from the peanut gallery teens.
Wednesday, I packed Korean sticky rice and threw in some dried seaweed. Ava says she wants to be more vegetarian, so I thought this was perfect.
She came home and said, “I got so much teasing over my Asian lunch.”
Thursday, I packed more Korean sticky rice and baked tilapia. But when I looked for small tupperware, I had none. I’ve decided to stop using plastic bags (you know, the ocean and all) and so I had to use the zipper pouches I wrote about before:
Yes, I put fish in a bag.
That afternoon, Ava comes home and sighs.
“Could you please pack lunches that won’t get me beat up*?”
*Obviously, she’s not really getting beat nor bullied.
When we think of our loved ones who have passed, we tend to get sad.
I invite you to look at “death” in a different way. It’s taboo in our culture to think of the passing of a loved one as anything but tragic, but Byron Katie says we are being self-centered and selfish (we, the survivors) when we think this way.
Kismet 