Surprise - What To Let Go Of When Our Beloved Dies

The Big Beautiful World

Some of the letters I write to Celestial Jess are embarrassing to share. I guess I feel embarrassed because my weakness shows. I don't like to let it show. But sometimes she teaches me things and makes me think differently, and I like to share that with you.

So I wrote to her in the night on January 2nd, relieved that we'd gotten through the third holiday season without her physical presence, but dreading the time period between New Year's Day and January 9th, because that's the day I was told about her death.

Click on the images to enlarge them if you'd like to read the whole letter.

I reminded myself in the days leading up to January 9th that I never have to relive that traumatic, devastating period again. I reminded myself of all that I've learned since then. And when I reached out to her, letting her know how much I miss her, she gently set me back on my pathway, as she often does.

"I miss you Pal," I wrote.

"I know Momma," she wrote back. "But I had to journey on - you know me. I learned what I needed to learn and you were a big part of that and I chose to move on." Interesting that she says she had a choice. Do we have a choice even after our body seems too sick to go on? If we choose to come back, does divine healing take place so we can continue? How do we recognize that healing? Do we only acknowledge healing as being without challenges, or even a change of vibration/manifestation/existence and worlds?

When I told her that it seems backwards that I'm still here and she's there, she says, "I had an accelerated life Momma. I wanted to learn fast, and when I was done with it, I was done."

That phrase sticks in my mind - "an accelerated life." This is a new way for me to think of those who die young. It seems to imply some consent or arrangement before we come into Earthly incarnation. Hm.

She says, "You nursed me while I was weak, you showed me what is possible, these were some of the reasons we came together." Hm. I like that perhaps I was a part of the arrangements that may have taken place in our Celestial home even before we came to Earth. This is a fairly new way for me to consider our adventures together. Perhaps I can trust the process.

And, as she does fairly often, she sets me back onto my own pathway by reminding me that I am not done with my adventure here yet and she reminds me that she's with me always and I can happily stretch into who I am. She says, "Let it be as it is and KNOW that it is good." Know that it is good. We've heard that before, haven't we?

Live your life.

Here's where it starts to get interesting for me. She says, "Leaving the world is always heavy for those who love and are still there, but it doesn't need to be heavy at all when you understand your place in my journey - your role, your gifts, they don't have to be burdensome. Love with all your heart. Breathe lightly. See the beauty all around you and choose your battles to fight. Live your life. I am right beside you. Graduation is good. No matter how it comes about. Each exit has its sorrows and its blessings and beauty. Drop the responsibility Momma, and step forward into teaching and celebration of life itself. It's pretty cool. There is total balance on this side. Trust that."

Curious how she says I need to understand "my place" in her journey, my role, my gifts.... I'm not sure I've thought about it quite like that before. It's like she's saying we did this together and we each get to "keep" it. Forever. It happened. It is, was, and always will be. And there will be more of these types of journeys, together, if we choose. Hm.

When she writes about each exit having its sorrows and its blessings and beauty the thought that feels downloaded into my head/heart is that even when we are afraid of the trauma of a violent transition, one that seems forced, the one who transitions is not alone, and is surrounded by loving entities at all times. She talks more about that later on and I'll share that part too in the next post, which is at the same time scary, and also very comforting.

She praises me a lot, and I love when she does that. She used to do that on the phone too. And again, she reminds me to meditate. Some of my best lessons and paintings come from meditation. Such simple teachings, like lightbulbs going on.

When I ask her about the dream I find her response fascinating, since I truly didn't understand it and when I dreamed it, it felt cruel. I dreamed that she was right in front of me, dressed so finely I'd never seen anything like it. She was wearing a beaded necklace that was beaded right into the fine hairs of her body and I remember examining it in wonder. She was wearing a beautiful shimmery garment. She was very tall, somehow appearing as if she were standing above me. I touched her, put my hand right on her midriff, and the part that hurt was that she said nothing, she did not look at me, and I wanted so much for some kind of communication.

In asking her about this in our letter, I was reminded yet again that she communicates in different ways and if I don't understand I can always ask for clarification.

I asked her, "So Jess, what was that strange dream where we were so close, I saw beautiful you, but you said no words and I felt some sense of separation? What am I supposed to know from that?"

She says, "You are supposed to know that as beautiful as I am, you are you. And you need to follow through on your pathway."

I still thought it felt cruel of her to "ignore" me, and I wrote, "So why couldn't we just talk and communicate? Why the additional pain? Why not just relax into a fluid form of communication? Was that you?"

She wrote, "I was showing you that I am safe, well suited to my environment. I am on various levels. You must be somewhat more in your world but knowing I'm with you." I can feel that she gets a kick out of appearing in this gorgeous raiment, and explaining that she's "well-suited" to her environment. This makes her laugh xo My little minx.

I understand that when she says I must be "somewhat more in my world," she means I need to be with people doing what I do. I love to be in my studio doing artwork, drawing, painting, writing, and it can be somewhat jarring to be out in the world. But I do find that when I go out in the world I have the most wonderful exchanges with people. Truly delightful. She's nudging me to get out more so that I have more of these exchanges, where I learn from others, and I can give them some takeaways too. There is joy in these exchanges. So because of these nudges I'm making an effort to leave the wonderful seclusion of my studio and be out in the world. It is good.

So I asked the question we all are afraid to ask and we don't want to do it - "Do I need to let go?"

I was afraid of her answer. I was afraid of what she might say. And here came the zinger.

"Yes, let go of the Earthly stuff. The trauma. The attachment to the physical. Truly step right into our spiritual world breathing it all in and letting it glow in your heart. Really let go of the physical sometimes and afterwards ground yourself by going outside, feet on the earth, or with food. We are in relationship but it's all different now."

Wow. Yes, I'm supposed to let go, but not of her, just of my limited, "Earthly" definition of her. She's telling me that it's good to be in relationship, but I need to stretch into my spiritual self for that to happen. Her response surprised me. It is always interesting to be surprised by what your own hand is writing, especially when you feel afraid of it and it turns out to be just beautiful!

Little lessons....

I asked her another question and her response was interesting. While she was living with us as a teenager, she loved to decorate her room at Christmas with sparkly lights, and she had a little fake Christmas tree that she'd put up every year. It was something she picked up from a friend somewhere, and it was a little old and a bit of a "Charlie Brown" tree. She didn't take it with her when she moved to Portland, so after she left I put it up in my studio each year, in celebration of her.

This past holiday season, Rob and I were downtown and as we walked past Woodring's Florist I noticed a gorgeous little ceramic Christmas tree in the window. I had decided not to put up Jessie's Charlie Brown tree because it was so old and rickety last year it fell over twice, scattering its golden Mardi Gras garland, and smashing a few of the little Santa and snowmen ornaments. It felt traumatic at the time, as if something sacred were in jeopardy. So when I saw the little ceramic tree, I went into Woodring's and bought it. I thought it was just perfect for bringing freshness to our ways of "holding things sacred," perfect for stepping out of "the decline" and the past, and stepping into our "now."

New traditions....

I was delighted with this little tree, and enjoyed it very much in my studio for exactly one evening. Then the lights winked out right in front of me while I was standing there enjoying it, and they could not be relit. We tried putting in new batteries and that didn't work. I was so disappointed! I loved the tree because it is very small, smaller than most ceramic Christmas trees, and it fit right on the corner of one of the tables in my studio. I loved it because we bought it at Woodring's where, years ago, Rob had arranged for them to deliver flowers to my office every Monday for weeks when he was courting me. I did not WANT any other tree.

But unfortunately the little tree was put together in such a way that the internal bulb could not be accessed. The manufacturer had glued the base onto the ceramic tree in such a way that it couldn't be removed. It should've lasted 20 years. I should've taken it back, but I couldn't. I couldn't understand WHY this wonderful, healthy step into our new now had turned into a failure. Secretly, somewhere inside, I wanted Jess to fix the tree. I wanted it to miraculously wink back on and shine for the next 20 years.

So I asked Jess, "Why did my little tree break when it symbolized for me, our new relationship?"

"To test you and let you know your capabilities for making things the way you really want them to be."

"Geez though - okay," I wrote back, thinking good grief, it seems they never let up. The simplest things that we do to make ourselves feel better, to shore ourselves up, turn into tests and lessons. Yep. They do.

I spent time researching ceramic Christmas trees and found that many of them are made with plugs so you can just plug them into an outlet. I learned that you can buy just various parts. Light kits, bases, plugs, all kinds of things. So I talked with Rob, and he took our little tree down into the basement and used his Dremel tool to burn out the plastic bottom. It was a very delicate operation, since the ceramic could shatter at any time with the vibrations of the Dremel so close to it. But I reminded myself if I could live without my daughter's physical presence, I could certainly recover from a broken piece of pottery, so we took the risk. It did not shatter. Rob took his time and the bottom eventually popped right out. It was fascinating! The tiny tree had not been lit by a single white bulb internally, like most others - it was lit by several led lights that truly should've lasted for 20 years. One of them had the blackened interior that signaled its failure.

So now we had this beautiful little tree without a base or any way to attach internal parts. That's when I started to do some research. The first time I tried, before we'd taken it apart, the internet gave up no solutions. But several evenings later, after we'd taken it apart, and I again tried to research how to fix it, the internet provided a host of choices! Yay! So we measured and e-mailed an Etsy vendor and chose a base along with the smallest light kit and plug available, and when they arrived it took Rob no more than a half hour to put it all together. Ta da!! It worked and it's beautiful and it'll work for probably more than 20 years!

Darling little tree!

So that's the part in our letter where I say thank you to Jess for helping us find just what we needed. When I complained about the expense, my little $31 dollar tree now being valued at about $70 dollars, she replied, "You are well taken care of Momma, and you will always have what you need."

So I learned two very simple, but important lessons. Number One - If I want something a certain way, the Celestial bodies and entities are not going to come down and make that happen, though they can and do help me find my way, and Number Two - I have to take the initiative and act to bring things about that I desire.

I was so close to just returning the tree, but that isn't what I wanted. How many times in life do we give up? How many times do we curse the Heavens for not delivering? Well, with these two simple lessons I'm back on track.

Thank you sweet Jess for reminding me of my Earthly powers, to use them, and to invite you to be a part of them. It is a new relationship indeed.

Namaste,
Jen