Listen to Your Heart

From our kitchen window, the light

 

We are never alone. I believe this with all of my heart and soul.

Scott is gone in the physical body. He is still here.

The family my mom grew up in and we were raised in treated death as the end. Their church had a heaven, but it was unreachable and no one taught us how to communicate with our loved ones who passed except to pray to God and hope for some kind of answer or relief.  If someone died, you went to your bedroom, you turned off the lights, some of the time you were medicated with valium to numb out the pain. You didn\’t eat for days until someone forced soup down you by tiny spoonfuls.  If you were a kid, you kept quiet and hidden. You couldn\’t ask questions. There was a dark gray heaviness that fell upon anyone in or near the house where the person lived or passed. The extended family reinforced the mourning.  God forbid if you laughed or smiled at a memory or good feeling. If you saw a sign or received a message from your loved one after they passed, you were looked at as being crazy, making something up, ignored, shamed, discounted, questioned, or given a look of judgement.  

My mom had a close relationship with her Grandfather. It was special and something she had not experienced much in her childhood. Unconditional love. My mom was a young teenager when her Grandfather died. When she found out the news, she followed the stairs down to the basement. There, she had her radio. She turned on her favorite music and opened the window in the laundry room. As her music played, a soft breeze blew the laundry on the line and carried the scent of spring to her through the basement window. She folded her clothes from the basket, smiling listening to the music, feeling her Grandfather. The basement lit up in a beautiful light. She lost herself in a feeling of peace and happiness she had never felt before.

Suddenly, the basement light turned on, and she heard her mother, my grandmother stomping down the stairs. She turned to see her mother\’s face full of anger.

\”Shut off that radio before the neighbors hear!  You should be ashamed of yourself having fun. Your grandfather is dead!!!!!\”

From then on, over sixty years ago, my mother has gone into depression or a deep sadness without seeing any light or peace when someone dies until Scott.

When Scott died. I refused. Refused to follow the old ways. 

I wanted to be cracked open. I wanted my heart to expand. I wanted to be guided to my own experience with Scott by my side.

Our house in the mountains is filled with light, it pours in, a light that is so powerful, I have never experienced anything like it. Our home is filled with love. I feel Scott here and I talk to him and ask him for guidance. I feel the pain sear my heart until it opens into the greatest love and healing I have ever felt. Scott is here. He hears us. 

Our systems in our culture are set up to distract us and numb us out, so we can\’t hear or feel the truth. Television, news, drugs, alcohol, overworking, consuming are marketed to us. They are band aids that will never heal us. Our healing comes from the power of love. By opening our hearts, letting go, and surrendering we can be guided by love.

There is nothing more powerful than that.

Published by As the Road Wanders

Travel Blogger and Traveler

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