Ugh. There’s really no good, or witty, or original way to start a post like this, and I wouldn’t even share but for the interesting peripherals. My uncle passed today. He’s been suffering from cancer for several months and opted out of continuing chemo. He slipped into a coma after receiving the last rites yesterday, and died peacefully, surrounded by friends and family. My mom has been with the family in Iowa for the past few days and has kept me updated. When I talked with her yesterday, she told me he would go within the next day or two; when I talked to her today, he was holding. With the arrival of his oldest son, he was surrounded by his family and the unspoken understanding was that this was what he’d been holding out for. Tonight was my first class in a beginner’s series at the Shambhala Center of Minneapolis. Walking in, I turned off my phone, knowing that Chris would be gone by the time I left the building.
I was mostly fine in class, if a little distant. During the second hour, I started feeling really agitated and even cried a bit. At one point, Chris’s face entered my mind, the way I remember him looking: jovial, kind, smiling and laughing. I wouldn’t claim to be psychic or similar, but I have had a few of these experiences before, I suppose they’re so powerful, especially when it’s a family member, that you can’t help but feel the vibe even many miles away. The distraught faces of my aunt and my mom co-habitated with this peaceful image of Chris for a while, and then it was gone, then I carried on my meditation. When I left and turned on my phone, there were two messages from my mom, and one from my aunt that Chris was gone.
I called and spoke briefly with my mom and aunt, shared my vision with them and gave them my love. When I hung up, I turned on the Radio K-tuned radio, smack-dab in the middle of this:
Stylistically, it’s not at all appropriate for Chris, but the message is. Rest in peace, big man. May you be pain-free and joyful once more!