Dad in Tim Horton’s, 2007

Remembrance Day. And I remember you. Who you were. Solid, real, my Dad. Frail, in the end, a wasting body that needed help to keep moving, until a blood clot liberated you and took you home in joy. Joy. You are in joy. The ecstasy that you were touching more and more is now your daily – implying time – experience.

You were getting closer and closer, shedding ego, gradually dying. “I’m only half alive,” you sighed only months before you passed into that freer world that exists right beside, within, imbued with, animated by, impregnated with. It is right there as part of us. Around, within, between, touched by us when we meditate, when we feel joy, when we are inspired, when we are feeling deeply, in love, in ecstasy, stirred by compassion. Then we are on mutual ground.

That world from whence we came is not dark; it is saturated by glorious light that allows one to see, perceive more clearly. So much darkness in the physical world. The other is just another level – which we touch often.

To be with departed loved ones, touch the real things that matter more frequently. Anyone can do it, no matter how stressed or busy – it’s just a matter of remembering to do it. There is always time for raising the energy.