It was his funeral today, David Andrew Young. I had my own private memorial service here in the house, lit a candle, played his favourite music and spend the morning hours reading my diaries from the 80s which document my relationship with him. It was the most powerful connection that we had, and physically it was utter ecstasy.
The day was pretty much lost to anything else, but I felt like taking the time out to remember, to feel sad, grateful, to relive memories. And I never entirely let him go, he always sat at the back of my mind, I’d look out for him on the street at times, drive past his house occasionally just to be near him. My sadness and tears? His slow death from years of alcohol abuse perhaps, and our lost youth, and being reminded of the nearness of death, who knows. The feelings and thoughts just came and went and I let them.
I reach out in tender compassion and embrace him, and me and us all on this strange journey – in meat bodies on the surface of a fucking planet. For some sensitive souls it’s too overwhelming, and intoxication makes it bearable. I feel grateful that early I was given adequate tools and developed some more that gave me the resilience to maintain some balance.
There are painful times like this and just to be quiet and allow a down day like this without trying to reach for any antidotes. I felt like getting some wine at one point, but no, I just wanted to feel what I feel and just take this time to be with him fully.
When people die, I imagine them restored to their exquisely beautiful pure state, full of wise knowing and understanding, which usually I nor them saw while they were here. Being to being in being, no separation. I felt reunited with him in that pure state today, addressed him as his true identity, a sovereign powerful being. I could say sorry and forgive but it doesn’t matter what happened in the past now.
I wonder if when people die they can see us back here and hear us, for a while at least? Such a mystery is death.