TIME

What is time, really?  Does it exist? Does it have to?

We are slaves to time.  We try to defy aging, yet we are in a hurry to see the future.  We can’t wait to grow up, only to lament the advantages of youth.  We embrace wisdom only when we are on the other side of a problem.  After all, what is regret?  It’s wishing we could change time, time travel to make a different decision, or somehow manipulate time to suit our own agenda. 

How many times have you heard the hypothetical, if you only had three months left to live, what would you do?!  People will talk of spending all of their fortune, traveling to exotic places, or being with loved ones. 

Almost 20 years ago, when my husband and I started dating, we would consider that question.  The answer always involved travel.

Then it got me thinking, why can’t I picture myself growing really old with this guy?  We are obviously each other’s match, but why the void on my end?  I’d lament over this with him and he’d always say the same thing, I just can’t picture anything in the future (typical engineer brain!).  A perfect math but an opposite one. I am flooded with visions, voices, scenarios and words, living with one foot in this world and the other foot … somewhere else.

The Engineer and the Medium.  That’s us. I view life thru the lens of the mystical and he looks thru the lens of logic, reason, probability….

It makes me wonder if on some level, my soul and his soul were speaking to each other in a way that cemented our fate together all those years ago.  We were two people, so opposite, never agreeing on much, but so clearly perfect for each other at the same time. 

As a medium and shamanic practitioner, among other esoteric masteries, it’s my role to be the bridge between the seen and unseen worlds.

As a human being I’ve experienced tragedy and shock, too.  Just like you.  It’s part of the contract of being human.

My spiritual crash awakening in 2012 helped me to make some sense of it all.  I bravely followed the breadcrumbs and it has led me (all of it) to where I am today. No regrets.

But right here, right now, I feel I face the impossible. 

My beloved, my life partner, my own private comedian, protector, warrior, and IT guy, is falling away before my very eyes. Time is closing in on him, on us, on our family.

So is it his time?  Do I wish for more? Is that fair? 

Fair.  There’s a whole other word. 

The disease that has invaded my husband’s body for the past three and a half years is far too comfortable and taking up way more space than just the corridor.  It has quite rudely taken up space in other parts of the house.  If house guests and fish go bad after three days, then this disease smells like roadkill on a hot day. Rotten. 

It is not fair.  But life is not fair.  Something I’ve been telling my 13-year-old a lot lately.  Somehow, our culture created the myth that life SHOULD be fair and that it IS fair.  But it’s not, and I don’t think it’s supposed to be.  It just IS.

We are not supposed to know everything and have all the answers.  When my kids ask me WHY their dad has to die now, all I can say is, we just don’t know.  We don’t.  There will always be mysteries in life we have no explanation for.  So we grieve and pay attention and love as much as we possibly can, while we can.

I find great comfort in knowing I will not lose my connection with my beloved just because he has moved into another form of being.  It takes away a lot of the fear that may arise.  But the sadness persists.

And to be honest, I don’t want him to stick around here on this earth plane if he can’t live the way he wants: in a healthy body without pain and suffering.   He deserves good things, great things.  

Yet, at times, I still fall into the trap of questioning the universe.  He doesn’t deserve this.  It’s not “fair” and we want more time.  Why me? Why our kids? Why him?

We don’t want to lose him, but we have to. 

One night recently, a particularly difficult one, a vision was gifted to me of my husband’s ancestors waiting for him, to take him to the next life that is so brilliant and bright it’s impossible to wrap our tiny human brains around it.  He will go on with a lot of gold coins in his karma bank.  He will be brilliant.

Yes, that’s a gift.  But I am still living in a state of perpetual heartbreak.

How do we pivot from that? I don’t know.  But this grief will crack me wide open, I’m sure of it.  I don’t know when.  I don’t know how.  I just know it will.

Thanks for listening.

Love,

Julie