The Passing of Moses
Moses died in the middle of a hurricane. We could not stay on the tiny island of Miami Beach with a potential category 5 hurricane on it's way, so our journey led us to Jacksonville, Florida and then Athens, GA. In Jacksonville, Moses started to fade more than ever. He had been preparing his body for months, but with the stress and the trip and the timing, he was lining himself up to leave while we were away. His body was disoriented, but his spirit was taking the time he insisted on to learn how the body breaks down, how it starts to disconnect and disengage with itself. He resisted eating. His head moved in confusion. He couldn’t open his eyes anymore. He was going deep within the darkness, as he sat within his light.
The last night in Jacksonville he was on my chest, and he said to me, “you have to let me go”.
And I said, “yes, ok, of course.”
And he said, “NO, you have to let me go. Say it. Say it out loud. I am letting you go.”
“I am letting you go,” I repeated.
By the time we reached Athens, GA, he could no longer move around at all. He just lay there, breathing. Being. The five hour trip into Georgia was really hard on him, but we were surrounded by forest when we arrived, in this lovely little house down a dirt road from Prince Street. Our host was incredibly gracious with all of us. There was a storm in Athens too. We spent a few days just mostly sitting, our host made jewelry for a show she was in the following weekend, and I was inside with Moses, taking care of him, and resting.
There were cardinals and hummingbirds eating and singing outside the window the morning he passed. I woke up and he was wriggling around like he had to go to the bathroom. I took him to the sink and put him in some warm water to make it easier on him. When he finished I picked him up and he started to vomit, something he only began to do a couple days before. And then I just sat on the toilet, with him lying on my thigh, and I said, "it’s time. You don’t have to do this anymore. It’s time for you to go".
I waved my hand over him to run healing energy through his body, and then I found the cord that attached him to this earthly plain. It was stuck in all this muck, and I helped him detach himself. We got back into bed and I held him on my chest as he took his last breath. And then I just lay there in bed for a long time, listening to the birds and the morning forest sounds, and that fabulous silence before humans wake up and start their day. His little beautiful yellow body on my chest, still warm, but stiffening.
When my host woke up I called a crematorium for pets I found online, about a thirty minute drive away. I made an appointment, got dressed, and prepared to take Moses in the car. It’s funny, because I can communicate with spirit, that talk and comradery between us was very much still present. He cracked a joke, I laughed. And then at the same time his body was no longer participating, and that felt very sad. We waited for the man to help, sitting on a bench outside, trees, grass, and beautiful butterflies flitting in and out of sight. I touched his little feet, and cried and cried and cried.
When the man came out to get us, I was blowing my nose (the sign of an end to a good cry). We sat down together as he explained everything to me. He had a great sense of humor and awesome southern hospitality. Yes mam. I walked out of there with a smile on my face, because I knew Moses’ body was in good hands.
There was a forest and some hiking trails just down the road, and I took a walk, sat by a waterfall and cleaned my energy. It felt so good. I played with a bright orange butterfly, took photographs, and fell in love with the depth of the forest. The way the energy changes every moment depending on the the sun and the wind. How you have to search for things. Everything is intricate and hidden until you arrive in front of it.
When I picked up the cremains a few days later, my host took a ring she had made, pulled out the glass stone and put some of Moses’ ashes in it before placing the stone back in. And now I am wearing that stone. I have a part of Moses on me. And he is very much around me now still. This is a new step in our friendship. It is different. It will take some time to get used to. But it is no less incredible. Like a butterfly, Moses and I transformed this past week and a half. I am looking forward to moving forward into what is to come next. And don’t be mistaken, I miss our old relationship something fierce, but that is a part of life.
So I leave you with something he wrote to the world a few days before his death. Well, I wrote it, he told me what to say!
You are dying. We are all dying. Every day. Death is a natural occurrence. If I was to say that this was easy, I would be lying. Even me in all my wisdom and strength cannot bare in grace the weight of this death. It is heavy, cold, unforgiving. But it is so real, so raw, so full of light at the same time. We are not meant to chase it away. We are meant to embrace it as it embraces us, like a hug from an old friend.
I can see how hard it is for all of you to let go. This is a testament of how much you actually love life. And that is a beautiful, wondrous gift! To love life! Death does not asked to be loved. Just to be welcomed when it is time, and you have decided to go. Because we do decide. Just as I am deciding right now to leave this Earth and transform into spirit again.
Thank you Earth for letting me rest my head upon your shoulder for a while, and experience the joy of love. Thank you Myan for the gift of truth between us. And thank you everyone I have met for all the adventures, and the adventures yet to come. Thank you God, for this was a glorious journey! I have learned more than I ever imagined, and I will take it with me, as Myan would say, to chew on for some time.
And thank you Myan, for without you, this incredible journey would not be possible. You are my light, my way back home to Earth when I need a little song in my journey out there, where I am not inside a container that limits me so I can focus on you. Where I am free to become anything and everything and nothing all at the same time. Farewell my love.