Love and Spirit Are Eternal

“What is grief, but love persevering?” ~Vision, WandaVision. 

First of all, shoutout to the writer that composed that line for a fictional Marvel superhero because I was bawling during that scene, you hear me?!  As I explore my journey to heal from grief, which is an extension of love, I have learned that while pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. A part of what creates suffering in grief is the sense of disconnection from a person you love and value. I'm a MAJOR Daddy’s girl. When my dad first transitioned, I felt like I didn't know how I was going to be able to make it through the rest of my life without his physical presence. Even if I live to be the age he passed at (71), it feels like there is too much life left at 40. But, a major turning point in my journey with grief was my complete acceptance of existential truths. The spirit is eternal. Love is eternal and knows no bounds. Love can be so strong that it can enable you to maintain your connection to a loved one who has transitioned out of their physical body. Death is not real. Our bodies are merely shells that transiently house an immutable form of energy. In physics, the First Law of Thermodynamics, also known as the Law of Conservation of Energy, states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed; energy can only be transferred or changed from one form to another. 

Our spirits are energy. And therefore, we are immortal. My father didn’t die. He transformed. I actually just chuckled, because I heard his voice jokingly say, “You mean I’m a transformer?” (I definitely get my sense of humor from him!) I have finally wholeheartedly accepted that a large part of the suffering I was causing myself in my father’s transition was the notion that death is the end of my relationship with him. The idea that I could never speak to or have contact with a person that I love beyond words…who means so much to me is an excruciatingly painful concept. But, even my scientific mind has had far too much evidence of the opposite to believe that the notion of death could be even remotely true. From the light that had never flickered until the day I received my cancer diagnosis to hearing  “If I Could” by Regina Bell on the way to the cemetery as I drove behind the hearse that contained my father’s body. My father loved to sing that song, but I had NEVER actually heard the song until it played on the radio that day. The opening lyrics, Regina beautifully sings,  

If I could, I'd protect you

From the sadness in your eyes

Give you courage

In a world of compromise

There's no way I can attribute this to a coincidence. My father did not die. He transitioned to a new place, and I still have access to him. My love and connection to my father are so strong that we are able to remain in contact even though he has transitioned out of his physical body. And because I am open to receiving messages from him, I am able to perceive his new modes of communication. I remain connected with his consciousness, and there are messages I have received that were so authentically his voice, deviating from my own ways of thinking that I have no doubt about their source. I already had data to support the merging of our consciousnesses before he left earth. There were times he would begin to make a statement, searching for a term, but giving the most random compilation of clues to describe what he was trying to convey. And I could still complete his sentence or help him find the missing term. This happened quite a few times and on more than one occasion, I surprised myself that I was able to ascertain the information so readily. We would both laugh with delight, marveling at our telepathic communication abilities, and I would exclaim, “Man, I know you too well!” My parents were teenage sweethearts, and were married for more than 52 years at the time of his transition. I’m truly in awe of my mother’s ability to communicate and continue her relationship with my father even now.

My relationship with my mother has been evolving since my father transitioned. We have actually grown much closer. I now recognize she may have felt like a spectator at times because of the closeness I shared with my father. But we are entering a new season of our relationship that has been an added source of growth for us both. I also see how our consciousnesses are merging as I’m able to complete her thoughts and sentences, and this gives me tremendous encouragement as I know there will come a day when one of us will make our own transition. Om Mani Padme Hum. 

Even though I objectively believed in my father’s ability to make contact with me following his transition, I still struggled with the adjustment to our new relationship and modes of communication. Grief shocks the system in so many ways, literally at a neurobiological level. It has taken time for me to recover enough to even be in the cognitive and emotional space to appropriately process and definitively accept the Universal truths about life and death. There’s a great book on this by Megan Devine, It’s Ok That You’re Not Ok, that it took me an entire year to be even ready to attempt to comprehend the poignant insights she offers.