Additional Moon Musings: Hey, Look at All This Light

I have been reflecting additionally on the super moon we had last Wednesday. The end of the 1999-2000 cycle. And what I also realized is I have so much light around me these days it’s not even funny. When I lost my mom in 1999 it felt dark. I mean, I had my family and that was a bright spot. As were music, friends, etc. But everything felt so cold. So now that I’m facing my father going into palliative care (this happened yesterday) I feel so much light around me. I feel grace around me. And when I feel into the grace I think: Oh, that’s my mom. I feel her around helping.

I have forged so many light-filled friendships over the years with intention that I feel very held by that. And Sandy Walsh — who is an amazing massage therapist and lightworker of amazing proportions — was talking to me today about ushering in the new earth and how self-care and finding the light within that bolsters us, and by default, others, is the work. 

Here we are, all connected and stuff. That wasn’t the case for me in 1999-2000. I remember it was a point of pride, actually (because I needed something to feel proud about), that I was not in a relationship at the time. I remember standing at my mother’s funeral, between my siblings (so not really alone, but not paired, for sure), and thinking: “Look at how strong I am. Standing here alone, not in a relationship, at my mother’s funeral, and dealing with it.” My ex and I had broken up a few months earlier but had been together for four years, so it was new. It felt clear, to be sure, but it also felt dark.

This time feels lighter. I’ll see how I feel when I get down there tomorrow and visit my dad. My sister called to say I should probably come sooner than I had originally planned (two weeks from now) if I want to have a somewhat lucid conversation with him. She said when he was sleeping his face looked slack and not good. And that he’s lost about thirty pounds since my niece’s wedding in September. He is out of the hospital, which is great, but he’s declined a lot even in the past week, my sisters have said.

So I’ll drive down to New Jersey tomorrow with Brent. We’ll stay at the Residence Inn as we always do. Still deciding whether to bring Oliver. I’ll see my sisters and my dad. These are all the smaller logistics-type things that will be fine.

​And then I’ll see how it is to see him and I’ll do or feel what needs to be done or felt. And in the bigger sense, for now, I feel grace, and my mother, and light. And I’m repeating myself because I’m luxuriating in that difference from the last time my parent began to slip away.