As this week brought a bittersweet beginning as we watched our beloved oak trees fall, what has transpired has been nothing short of miraculous, at least in terms of what it has done for me. I continue to expose my vulnerability through these written words week after week, yet this one will prove to be the most difficult but I feel called to do so. It’s funny how one can trust in so many people that they have never met and might not ever meet. I believe that this is one of many examples of how “like attracts like” and how far light can travel amongst people within that bond of mutual trust.
So many things this week, beginning with our tree situation, have carried a common theme of death. The tree event alone initially sparked the thoughts of death and the void that is left behind as a result. Whether it be a loved one, a family pet, or anything that served a deep purpose in your life, death is so often seen as the end. Since a very young age, I have always been aware and deeply afraid of death. So much so, that it has induced a powerful anxiety within me that, at times, has been incredibly hard to control. I’ve never quite understood why this fear developed in me at such a young age but I have always known one thing… that I’d one day conquer this fear and that death would take on an entirely different meaning to me.
That day came to me on Tuesday. I was driving to work, the tree situation still heavy on my mind, and was listening to a podcast as I always do. The podcast was ‘The Ed Mylett Show’ and his guest was actor Rainn Wilson. I didn’t select this podcast, it was just one of many in a growing queue I have as I listen to a multitude of podcasts and audiobooks on a daily basis. At one point in the interview, Ed Mylett brought up the death of Rainn Wilson’s father. In Rainn Wilson’s new book, he talks about the “privilege” of being able to witness the passing of his father. I know, that’s not a word I would have used but he goes onto explain what that moment confirmed in his belief of what death truly is. He spoke of death as more of a transition than an end. His belief that we are all “spiritual beings having a human experience” was confirmed, clear as day, as he watched his father take his final breath. As his father passed on, although his body remained, he was “no longer there”. What remained was the “vessel” that carried his spirit during his time on earth. Everything else that made him who he was, was somewhere else. His voice, his charisma, the sparkle in his eyes, had moved on. Ed Mylett then shared his incredibly similar experience of witnessing the final moments of his father’s time on earth. It was in this moment that I was blasted back in time.
You see, I also witnessed my father’s final moments on earth. As it became clear that he would not leave the hospital on his own, he was transferred to a hospice center. My sisters and other family members followed and were soon all huddled around his bed, sitting there in deafening silence. We each had a hand on him as he took his final breath. Up until earlier this week, I would have never reflected on this experience as a “privilege”. It has always been a painful memory for many reasons but after hearing this conversation, I was reminded of something…
A few minutes after my father passed, we were gathered outside in the hallway and decided to give each other a moment alone whether it be outside or on one of the many private seating areas. I quickly realized that I had left my hat in my father’s room. I walked back into his room, his body still there on the bed. My hat was on a shelf just across the foot of his bed. I faced that shelf, my back to my father’s body, and grabbed my hat. I didn’t want to turn around. I just stood there, facing the wall, trembling and sobbing. The room was as quiet as quiet could be. I finally turned around and stood at the foot of his bed. I told him one more time that I loved him but, as I did, I noticed something. I stopped suddenly as if I’d just seen a ghost. As I looked at my father’s face, it was as if I was looking at someone else. The lines that defined his face had vanished. His features were almost as if they were those of a stranger. His eyes barely remained open and the glimmer within those eyes, the windows to my father’s soul, were empty, just as if you were looking into a vacant house. As sad as I was, this small moment gave me a brief feeling of relief and peace in knowing that he had been freed from the pain and limitations that his human body had plagued him with for so many years.
As I revisited this memory, it became clear to me that I’d been wrong all along. Death truly isn’t an end, it’s simply a departure towards a soul’s next destination. In almost an instant, my fear of death made no sense and as the days since this realization have passed, that fear almost seems laughable. The fear of death robs us of the opportunity to truly experience life. In my case, I now realize just how much time I’ve wasted in fear of something that is inevitable rather than embracing the time I have during this experience on earth. As my faith in the divine continues to strengthen, I also realize that another adventure out there awaits after my time here ends. The beauty of the human experience is that we each have the freedom within to make whatever we want of this experience and to believe in whatever we choose to when it comes to what lies ahead. Some, through either their faith or upbringing, may know their path and rest well in knowing what lies ahead for them while others, like myself, struggle with the mere thought of it until they are confronted with with moments like these that provide a confirmation that only they can receive.
Last, we all leave our mark on this world. Since the dawn of our existence, humans have been leaving their marks as reminders of those who came before us. One of the most incredible examples of this lies within each and every one of us and each and every thing. Although my father’s soul has embarked on it’s next journey, he’s left his mark within me. Part of what made him, made me. This seemingly endless cycle goes back through each and every generation, serving as reminders that life doesn’t end, it simply changes. The baton is passed, again and again.
Looking ahead, these trees will leave their mark as well. The massive trunks were left intact as they will support an amazing treehouse that we hope to start sometime next year. The massive branches that now lay on the ground will be chopped into firewood. With each burn of that wood, the soul of those trees will provide heat in the winter and sustenance as it cooks our food. Even the sawdust that now covers the ground below will decompose and further strengthen the soil on this farm. I am grateful for what the trees provided for us as they stood over us and I will continue to be grateful for their continued contribution to me an my wonderful family.
I expected to be sad after writing this today. I expected these reflections to reintroduce fear and uncertainty in thinking that all of the highs from this would soon wear off. Well, I am not sad and I fear absolutely nothing. I hope it’s done the same for you. Now, enough of this… Let’s go live some life. :)
Brad Martin is a freelance writer with over 20 years of experience in managing people through inspiration. If he can get behind your product or message, an army will soon follow, on board and loyal to the mission.
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