In
the fall of 2012 my mother died. By
this time in my life, I was no stranger to loss. With well over 50 years clocked on
the planet, I had said my fair share of good-byes. I was just 14 when I my dad passed on and I
honestly cannot count the number of friends, family and acquaintances who have
passed on since that monumental and unexpected good-bye for which I was ill
prepared. Dealing with loss just happens
when you’re one of the ones lucky enough to still be here at this age.
Losing
my mom was different though. As said by one of
my dearest friends, who by the way had lost her mother just two
years prior to my mother’s passing, losing your mom “is the worst.” I still am at a loss to articulate the emotions
that emerged with the passing of my mother.
It was like nothing I had lived through until that time. Up until that time, no matter what ever had happened
in my life, there was always mom. Now,
there wasn’t.
Completely
perplexed with where I found myself, I emailed my Hawaiian mentor, Serge Kahili
King for guidance on how to manage the position in which I found myself. His
reply went like this: “There are two types of [meditative] journeys we use on
the passing of someone close. One is to meet their spirit in our Garden and
finish any unfinished communication. The other is to meet their spirit on the
beach at Bali Hai and, if appropriate, comfort them until other spirits come
and help them pass on to another place. When doing the latter you sometimes find
the person's spirit waiting for you just to say goodbye, because they have
already made their own arrangements.”
As
with all of the techniques bequeathed to me through Serge, I adapted his
recommendations to accommodate my personal journey. My experiences in my garden are for another
article. I will tell you that in
meditation I went to a beach to visit with mom.
She was indeed there. Although
she would not interact with me despite several attempts, I did see her face light
up like a Christmas tree when she heard her father’s voice calling her from the
distance. She disappeared quickly in the
direction of her father’s voice. I was
somehow at peace seeing her leave with a joy and excitement I had never before
seen in her eyes! She was genuinely
excited to see her dad again – as if she had waited her whole life for just
that moment! To be sure, I was still
grieving the loss of my mother, but I somehow felt better knowing that she was
not only okay but really, really happy.
I
have just two more experiences to share of that beach meditation, if you will
so grant me the time. Recently, I was
honored with time alone in the form of a massage session with a mother of a
very sick child. In addition to living
at a hospital 24/7 with a child whose prognosis was questionable at best and being
miles away from any family support, this dear soul shared with me that one of
her best friends from her school days had unexpectedly died the night before
and she could not even go home to attend the funeral and be with her
friends. Now typically, I do not share
personal information in a professional setting but I felt “guided” to share
with her the meditation technique involving the beach of Bali Hai I had learned
from Serge and how it had helped me when my mother died. As I continued to massage her neck and
shoulders, she became very quiet and silently wept. After our “massage session” was completed,
she thanked me saying that she mentally went to the beach she and her friend used to
frequent while they attended school together.
She found her friend there and said her good-byes. She somehow felt at peace and was grateful
for the opportunity to find that peace.
My
“other” experience with what I now call the “beach of good-byes” was when my
dear four-legged friend, Fritz recently died.
Fritz was one of the largest and dearest creatures with
whom I have ever had the pleasure of sharing a home. With all of his long hair, the whole beach
thing just didn’t fit when I went there to find him. I did, however, spot him lounging – in
perfect cat style – in the sun on a piece of driftwood near the edge of the
beach. In my meditation, we had a lovely
visit. Fritz was sucking up love and
attention in a way that would put a Hoover vacuum cleaner to shame. Realizing that I needed to encourage him to
“move along” I drew his attention to the meadow behind him. I coaxed him to play in the field with all
the butterflies and moving grasses.
Eventually something caught his attention and I saw him run away with
his tail in the air! I felt a peace move
into my body and I knew he was well – and so was I.
To
make a long story short, how this meditation technique shows up for you is all
yours to discover. My wish for you is to
find peace in the face of loss.
