Everything

About six weeks ago, Ron and I pulled to the side of the highway in New Mexico so I could get this picture. I was going to email it to my dad. He would have loved it. But about five weeks ago, he died. I can honestly say that not showing him this picture is the only regret I carry about my father. The greatest comfort, the hugest healing is in the knowledge that nothing was left unspoken between us. He knew without a doubt how much I loved, appreciated, and valued him in my life. He not only spoke similar sentiments to me on a regular basis, he also left me with cards, letters, and emails full of the same. Ours was a bond unlike any other in my life. He was, as my friend Erin said of her mom, my person, the one who took all of my disparate parts and put them together in a way that made sense.
In the last five weeks I have learned what it is to hit rock bottom. I've leanrned, in fact, that there is a level even below that. It felt like being trapped in the very center of the earth, bathed in molten emotions and unable to see the light. The interesting thing was, though, in the center of that space, as despairing as it was, I felt a connection to everything unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I felt such a connection with people, with every human who has ever suffered. I felt connected with trees, the earth, all of nature.
When it was time to leave my mom, sister, and my Michigan family, I headed back out to the High School Musical tour to meet up with Ron. Mercifully, the show was in Tucson, Arizona, one of the most stunning landscapes in the country. Walking the dogs through the desert grandeur, my soul drank in the beauty of nature. Though my heart was still aching, I could feel a powerful healing taking place.
If there is one thing I have learned in my many years of spiritual seeking it is this: the only way out is through. There is no value in our conventional ways of grieving, "just keep busy", "focus on the good times" "know that he's in a better place", etc. Distracting oneself from the reality of sad feelings is, in my opinion, a waste of time. I had the blessing of being able to grieve. For me, that meant feeling my feelings, allowing the depth of my sadness, crying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. When you touch the darkest place within you, new pathways for healing open up. And the compassion that is birthed becomes a part of your new identity.
I've always loved being identified in the context of my daddy. "Oh, you're Johnny's daughter." I am. And he will always be a part of me. His death affords me an opportunity to become even more of the woman he created me to be. A person with deeper roots, watered by tears, and blossoming into the full ripeness of my own humanity.
The morning after my dad's death, I awoke with a song in my head, one that I hadn't heard for many years. The lyrics repeated over and over in my half-waking mind: "You are everything, and everything is you.." When I look out at the sky of Joseph City, New Mexico, I feel the truth of those words. I feel you, my daddy. In everything.