“Death is the dropping of the flower that the fruit may swell.”

– Henry Ward Beecher

My mother and I sit on the patio eating the southern specialty of Brunswick stew. The air is crisp, the hydrangeas blooms have shifted to a dusty amber, and the red and yellow leaves fall one by one, swirling through the air to land silently on the grass. Traveling without my children this week, my mother and I enjoy extra-long walks and uninterrupted conversations.

Autumn stirs reflection, slowing, and softness. 

I have traveled from Costa Rica to visit my parents. I have come for them both. My mother needs my companionship now as my father is slowly leaving this earthly plane.

My father was a man like no other during his epic 87 years. He began life with a stutter that he overcame through hard work and dedication. He became a successful entrepreneur as well as a speaker and leader in his line of work and in his community.

He created a family business that included not only our family but also the families of the people who worked for him, many of whom spent their entire careers with the business. My father laughed, told off-color jokes, loved all humans, and adored and respected my mother, his wife, for 51 years. 

He was kind, not just nice, and would lovingly tell you what you needed to hear, even if it was hard.

He made every human know that they were important and loved (Well, except for a couple of my ex-boyfriends! :)

My father loved the water and learned to sail and be moved by the wind.

Port to port that we traveled, he would know every man’s story by dinner. 

His spirit was bigger than life, and he could inspire the spirit within others. 

Over the last eight years, I have watched my father’s body lose its autonomy. His eyes, posture, and physical functionality soften. His world gets smaller, and it is exhausting for him to speak. I feel his body wanting to rest. I sense that his spirit is beginning to leave this plane to connect with the realm of ultimate acceptance.

As fall comes this year and the leaves twirl to the ground. I can feel his spirit freeing itself of the body that has been my father.  There is a gentleness in leaving the body. A grace that you can sense even in the labored breathing.

I sit with my father holding his hand,

Will this be the last time?

I tell him it is safe;

That he has succeeded;

That he has taken care of us.

He is tired of holding up this body.

He used to call out to his deceased mother and brother. 

Now I feel he has connected with them. 

Holding his hand, I feel it is cold; the spirit is leaving.

The leaves are falling.

There is nothing to stop,

Only to pause and watch the coolness arrive and the trees begin to rest. 

Releasing our bodies is part of the extraordinary experience of life. 

Like in birth, we cross over from one realm to another. As we leave this body, we let go of the separation that being embodied grants us. 

We connect again with the vast everything. 

Connection with everything, with God, Spirit, or Energy, whatever name you would like to call it. 

I call it Love. 

“I’d rather die while I’m living than live while I am dead” -Jimmy Buffet.

I can remember singing these lyrics on the sailboat with my father.

Being with him during this transition is another reminder to enjoy and relish this realm of the sensual world. Devour the feeling, the good, the painful, and every feeling in between.

Living the life of your dreams while you are in this body is available to everyone. 

What are you ready to create? 

Join us at the Live the Life of Your Dreams Retreat in Nosara, Costa Rica.

 During this retreat, we will realize our impermanence and, from there, create with passion and a newfound purpose.

Early bird pricing is now through November 1