It’s been six months to the day since my father passed. As I sit here typing away on my computer, I reflect on all of the changes that have occurred in my life in these past six months. Some of the changes are major life changes while others are more subtle.

What I wish to gain from this life altering experience is a deeper understanding of the living spirit. And make no mistake about it I do have a strong sense that the spirit of my father is as alive as it ever was.

As of late, I have been focusing my meditation on moving past this physical form, and trying to touch that which is in us that is formless. I am able to get there in my meditation. And once I am there, I try to stay there and let it penetrate me. What does it feel like to be formless? What does it feel like to be no-body and no-thing, absolute no-thing-ness?  There are no answers to these questions. The questions have to be experienced.

Adyansti talks about what he imagines the experience of death will be like. I love how he describes this experience. He says, “death is just the next experience- that’s all it is. It’s the next experience; it’s a different experience than sitting here talking to you, but ultimately it’s the next experience that consciousness has.” He goes on to say, “at the moment of physical death, there is the dropping away of the physical experience. In a way, it’s a forced awakening.”

I close my eyes and let go. I know my true self to be formless. And I allow myself to be just that. I let everything else drop away. I stay with this experience….until I open my eyes and let the world back in.

My dad passed away a few months ago. He was in a terrible bicycle accident. He had such bad brain injuries that we had to let him go. I sat at his hospital bed for two weeks, holding his hand and sending him Reiki, hoping that he would open his eyes. Still, we had to let him go. It was the toughest decision that my family ever had to make.

When we took him off of life support, my family gathered around in a circle, held hands together and prayed. We thanked my dad for loving us and being such a wonderful father, grandfather and husband. We said goodbye. But, being the fighter that he was, he wasn’t quite ready to go. He hung on for another 24 hours. And that was the hardest time ever. I sat with him at his bed, still holding his arm and sending him Reiki. But now it wasn’t about hoping that he would open his eyes. It was about giving him permission to pass on. I sat there asking him to let go. I told him that it was time go, that we all loved him and that we know that he has to go now.

I vividly remember the moment of his passing. I stayed awake the entire night watching him, watching his breathing. I was alone in the room with him. The sun was starting to rise. I knew that the family could not handle another day of this. I just knew that he had to go now. His breathing changed. I sent powerful Reiki love to him. I just kept sending it. The whole room filled with peace. I put his favorite music on, the sound of the loons.

His breathing became very unsteady and his lungs were filled with liquid. I knew that the time was getting close. Being the fighter that he was, his physical body was not going to go without this one last fight. Dad’s breathing became very hard. It was very difficult to sit there and continue to hold his hand and watch this struggle. But I did not budge until he had taken his last breathe. And then it was over.

How do you say goodbye? I don’t know if you ever do. I know that my dad is still with me. He is out there somewhere watching over me.

Dad had a favorite poem that he wanted read for his children after he died. I find it so perfectly fitting. I do not know who the author is. It is called the “Navajo Prayer”.

I give you this one thought to keep

I am with you now…I do not sleep

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not think of me as gone,

I am with you still…in each new dawn.