The Untethered Soul

In the pre-dawn of this day, 4:32 am, a lone bird starts its call to invite the morning.  The darkened streets, damp with the rain of many weeks, and the ominous sky trying to break its tie to the moon, cast a surreal image as I peer out my window in silence and in darkness.

This day is like all others in many regards however what defines it for me is that it marks the memorial of my dad's passing from this world as well as a turning point in my own world.

Four years ago, life was at the peak of falling apart.  My dad was painfully wasting away from lung cancer right before mine and my family's eyes. 29 years of fearing this one man, wanting to love him despite fearing him, fulfilling expectations and sometimes succeeding while at other times failing all came to a head. Life until that moment had been a cautious walk to hold onto stability.  I was so afraid to forget him, I was so afraid of myself, I was so afraid to let go.  Life until that moment had been about taking control of everything I could so that I wouldn't be alone or afraid and it left me broken-hearted, alone, afraid and sinking in despair not knowing who I was or what my purpose on this earth was.

In hindsight, I realize that what I was clinging to were the memories from my childhood of him that held me back from realizing what my own potential was.  It was so easy to cling to and hide behind the labels that had been put on me and likewise the labels that I put on him and my whole family and my whole life.  The fragile cord that had held me through his last days and into the mourning phase after, -an engagement seven years in the making, unraveled and in the wake of losing my father, within the course of less than a year,  I said goodbye to a love gone by and shoved away from the shore and bid that world adieu.  It was then that I started to be accountable for my life rather than letting others dictate or feeling that others dictated it. 

Time heals all wounds.  It does.  In the four years since his passing, I died and then I got a chance that not so many get: I was re-born.  In losing what I thought was almost everything in my world outside of my dear family and friends, meaning myself, I was able to do it all over again.  I climbed outside of this womb of pain and turmoil and loss and then one day I found my feet, I found yoga and started to crawl and then walk.  Yoga helped me find the union to myself, -to take the time to make the time to find what I love: to explore, to see people again, to clear the lens of my perception, to love me again, to trust again, to be a risk taker, to be a light.

On this morning, I think about my father  as nothing other than a beautiful soul and light.  I am grateful for the one life I have lived and for the second chance that I found.  I have two visions of him that I will always hold dear to my heart that project all who he was:

My fondest memories of dad were those times when we would take a break from work at the store and go for walks and talk about life in one of the most beautiful places in Boston, The Arnold Arboretum.  Looking back, I see the way that I will always remember dad, strong and eternally giving.  In good health we would walk together until we reached the highest point of the arboretum that overlooked the grounds below so that we could stretch, breathe and observe silence.  It was at these moments that I most appreciated him sharing this special spot free of the rest of our daily worries to witness him the most at peace. 

My other memory that I would like to share occurred after his diagnosis with Lymphoma.  During the weeks following his diagnosis I committed to walk and workout with him a couple of days each week to boost his strength as well as his spirits.  Despite his initial wariness, we proceeded and it was during this time that I really saw for myself his truest strength and humanity.  No matter how tired or winded he was, no matter how hard his body would strain to do the last lift or step, and no matter how hard it was for him to breathe after a walk around the block, he would continue, despite his fatigue, determined to finish.  After each of these sessions as I was leaving, we would hold hands as I was kissing him goodbye and he would in his breathlessness whisper a thank you.  No dad, thank you.

And so here it is, the dawn has broken onto another overcast day.  The solo song of the one lone bird has turned into a chorus of many birdcalls.  I hear my father and feel my father's soul imparted in this music and I feel his soul free, untethered from all expectations, soaring above, exploring, feeling, loving and in his potential. He is not alone, I am not alone, we are not alone.  Live in love and live in light.  Thank you dad, I miss you and I will always love you.