This weekend Sean, Liam, and I went up to the Grand Canyon. We knew we wanted to do something to help remember my mom and the place that just seems to be 'Mom' is the Grand Canyon. She hiked the canyon more times than I can count. She would go down to Indian Gardens, hike to Phantom Ranch, go Rim to Rim, and maybe down just a mile or two. Sometimes she would hike with friends, Dad, us kids, and sometimes she would hike alone. As we walked the South Rim Trail, I had this realization, she never was alone up there, she would make a 'friend' on the trail, on the rim, on the shuttle bus, in a lobby. I don't remember a time when she didn't meet a 'friend'. And sometimes this 'friend' would be a furry friend, scaled friend, or even a feather friend. No matter what, I don't really ever think she was alone up at the Canyon.
We packed up the car mid-day after a morning of me teaching and headed North. In Williams we needed a pit stop and decided a candle might be a nice gesture for whatever heart ceremony we were about to facilitate. We stopped at the local grocery store and I went hunting for a candle. A long time friend of the family recognized Liam and in that moment I realized that Liam and Mom are similar, they are known. They love most everyone and most everyone loves them. They make friends wherever they go. Another long time friend hollered out and we were able to share a quick hug, a hug I didn't realize I needed until it was exchanged. Though Williams will never be home again, there is a need that this tiny little town fills and all the people hold a special place in my heart.
We continued up to the Rim, arriving early evening. The temperature was cold and the sky grey, but there was a familiar warmth that surrounded me and gave me strength. The last time I was up at the Canyon with Mom was right after Christmas 2015. She was getting weaker and almost didn't get out of the car. I think Andrew and Dad coaxed her out into the wheelchair and we toured around the Mather Point Visitor Center. When we got to the Village, there was something amiss with Mom. She wasn't looking at the Canyon, this place she would get so giddy about, this view that she didn't capture on paper because no painting could share the depth of her love for this place. And here she was, unable to walk the Rim trail, unable to even speak loud enough for us to hear sometimes, or make sense of the words she shared. I guess I knew that Mom was not going to 'beat' cancer that day at the Canyon. I just didn't realize that I would be saying goodbye in 2 short weeks.
Saturday we went back into the Park, back to Mather Point and this time we bundled Liam up and we walked the Rim trail. We found a place to let Mom's light shine once again on the Rim. We were able to celebrate, to grieve, and to honor Mom all while being at the rim of this glorious landscape that Arizona is known for, a landscape I think the whole family has a special relationship with.
There is something so unique when a person passes. I had the honor of sitting with a friend in 2011 as she transitioned. I got the call from a mutual friend, asking for me to come. When I got to our friend, she was breathing irregularly and seemed anxious. We were bodywork buddies so I went straight to work with Bowenwork moves that I imagined would help calm her system. The moves worked, she was able to slow her breath and her body relaxed. We called another friend to come, when she arrived the two of us would alternate doing Bowenwork moves and holding our friend's hand. As our friend started to lose consciousness she asked for specific Bowenwork moves at specific times. Finally she relaxed into her journey state, we continued to do Bowenwork here and there if she would get agitated again. I went into a meditation state and started to sense the subtler needs, the unfinished business. This friend had a son who was able to make the trip up to say good-bye and there was some healing that could be done. I started to do PSYCH-K® with her and him, and with each balance, my friend seemed to relax a little more, journey just a little deeper. And yet, she wasn't able to fully go. By then, there were just 4 of us in the room, my friend, her son, the Bowenwork friend, and myself. The Bowenwork friend was whispering to go to the light, to relax and let the light take her. What I got in the meditation was different, what I got was this; my friend was at a closed door, the door was backlit. She was already at the light, but she couldn't get the door opened, then it hit me, SHE was the key, she had to let go of her body to open the door. In an unspoken way I shared that with my friend, I got the sense that she got it, her body was present but something shifted in the room, she was gone. There wasn't any room for me to rest, it was 1:30am and I was to work in the morning, so I kissed my friend and took my leave. I got home and at 2:15am got the news that she had passed at 1:43am. Even now, 6 years later, I feel the magic in that night, and the connection I felt with my friend as she found her way. Death doesn't scare me anymore, now there is magic, strength, and peace.
I am so grateful I had this experience before Mom's passing, because I wasn't able to be with her when she passed. I had made the choice to come home get some affairs in order and then head back up until the time came to come back home. As Liam and I were traveling to Williams, she took her last breaths. I am so grateful she and I had mended anything that needed mending and she got to spend time cuddling and reading to Liam, because today, the sadness is just that I don't get to hug my mom. I know I can talk to her, I have dreams about her, and she lives in the stories her loved ones share about her. So as we leave the darkest part of the year, I am grateful there is a light in honor of my mom flickering on. Thank you for sharing in the celebration of her life.
We continued up to the Rim, arriving early evening. The temperature was cold and the sky grey, but there was a familiar warmth that surrounded me and gave me strength. The last time I was up at the Canyon with Mom was right after Christmas 2015. She was getting weaker and almost didn't get out of the car. I think Andrew and Dad coaxed her out into the wheelchair and we toured around the Mather Point Visitor Center. When we got to the Village, there was something amiss with Mom. She wasn't looking at the Canyon, this place she would get so giddy about, this view that she didn't capture on paper because no painting could share the depth of her love for this place. And here she was, unable to walk the Rim trail, unable to even speak loud enough for us to hear sometimes, or make sense of the words she shared. I guess I knew that Mom was not going to 'beat' cancer that day at the Canyon. I just didn't realize that I would be saying goodbye in 2 short weeks.
Saturday we went back into the Park, back to Mather Point and this time we bundled Liam up and we walked the Rim trail. We found a place to let Mom's light shine once again on the Rim. We were able to celebrate, to grieve, and to honor Mom all while being at the rim of this glorious landscape that Arizona is known for, a landscape I think the whole family has a special relationship with.
I am so grateful I had this experience before Mom's passing, because I wasn't able to be with her when she passed. I had made the choice to come home get some affairs in order and then head back up until the time came to come back home. As Liam and I were traveling to Williams, she took her last breaths. I am so grateful she and I had mended anything that needed mending and she got to spend time cuddling and reading to Liam, because today, the sadness is just that I don't get to hug my mom. I know I can talk to her, I have dreams about her, and she lives in the stories her loved ones share about her. So as we leave the darkest part of the year, I am grateful there is a light in honor of my mom flickering on. Thank you for sharing in the celebration of her life.
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