IN MEMORY OF OUR FRIEND, DENNIS

 

 
Its been a long week, as we all sat helplessly, waiting for news that our friend had been found.  In my heart, I hoped that there was some terrible mistake and Dennis would just roll into town, give Marianne a big hug and tell her of his latest adventure.  But it was not to be.  On July 14th, after a week of hoping, his body was discovered, having tragically gone off the highway in northern BC.  The accident took his life.  

The miracle is how multitudes of people who knew Dennis, many of them from his biker lifestyle, offered a veritable army of prayers into the Ethernet, asking for his safety and sending their love in  abundance.  It made me cry each time I opened Facebook and saw hundreds of prayers and blessings day after day as his family stoically put one foot ahead of the other in their faithful search.  It was overwhelming to see how many people Dennis had touched in his sixty-one years on this planet.

If I close my eyes, I can see his smiling face, all golden, bronzed from the hours spent riding in the sunshine.  I can see his blue eyes, those laughing eyes, those knowing eyes that caught you off guard if you weren't expecting them to pierce right through you.  He could see your soul.  His recovery journey gave him an insight into life and love and loss, and that is what I want to celebrate when I think of Dennis.

My Blog is called, LOVE AND OTHER LOSSES, and Dennis' story is another lesson in that paradigm.  As sad as it is to lose him, as devastating as it is to know we will never see him again in this lifetime, the love he generated in all of us will last for eternity and that can never be diminished.  It teaches us that the most important thing in life is to love; although we risk being hurt and know we will ultimately feel the pain of loss, the joy of having loved another so perfectly lasts forever.  I know that there is only one purpose in our lives, and that is to love unconditionally.  Wealth, power and fame are insignificant in the end; only love remains through it all.  Love knows all, touches all and heals all.

So when you hear the echo of some Harley pipes in the distance, or glimpse a flash of a smokey blue decker with a sheep skin on it, and you remember in a painful flash that Dennis isn't with us in body, don't be sad.  Think of him riding with his brothers and sisters of the highway, and keeping an eye on us down here.  And remember, there are angels among us, loving us still.

Say hello to those other angels, Dennis.  Heaven's Angels.

Love Lost

Exactly thirty years ago, today,  July 1st, I thought my world was ending. 

I had been sick for a few years, and my doctors were not able to give me a diagnosis. I was slowly slipping into the abyss of the chronically ill, where, no matter what I clung to,or how loud I yelled out for help as I slid down into the crevass of hopelessness, I knew I was lost.  I had begun to separate myself from family members, friends and even from my own situation.   At last I found myself in a state of peacefulness.  Quiet, calm and reasonable.

My relationships suddenly came into shark focus.  My two children - now in their early teens - were no longer babies.  They were capable and strong - each a part of my heart.  My husband was my best friend.  I was surrounded by love.

But my illness had taken its toll on everyone.  Keith's own needs were unmet and he had allowed himself to seek love outside our marriage.  We had talked about it rationally, reasonably, like adults, and finallly, thirty years ago on this day, as we sat on the sandy beach, bathed in the summer sun, I looked at him with new eyes and saw how sad he had become.  I recall the moment as one of utter whiteness, blinding sun, blistering heat, total silence.  My heart was heavy as I told him I loved him and that it was time to find out if he needed to leave me to seek his own fulfilment.  The other woman was waiting for him.  We both cried and held each other with a fierce passion, knowing it might be the last time we sat here together as a married couple.

If I had any hope that he might stay with me, take care of me, continue to love me as his only love, it was dashed when he wiped hot tears away and said, "I have to leave you, to go to her and find out if it's real.  I'll go quickly."  And, for him, Canada Day became his emancipation day.  Freedom from caring for a sick wife, from being shackled by a 19 year marriage - once solid, now shadowed by only vague memories of the good times.  I gave him the liberty to seek a new love with my permission.  His ambivalance showed as he stood, balancing from foot to foot in the hot sand, and helped me rise so he could embrace me. He cried out, "I must be crazy.  I love you, but I have to do this".  I folded into his arms one last time before he walked away, and left me looking out over the cool, clear water. Alone.

There is a certain kind of peace that comes with the understanding that there are no more chances, no more options, no more hopes to grab.  I found that peace and calmly turned to walk back to my cottage and the remnants of my  life.  I had to make plans for my children and me.

Ultimately, I was blessed by finding a good doctor, and by the end of summer,  I had  radical surgery, found new hope for recovery and discovered that I had a stronger, more valiant source of strength than I ever suspected, lingereing within me.   I emerged from my sick bed cacoon to fly with new wings.

Over the years that followed, Keith married and divorced his soul mate, married and divorced his next wife, and finally married one  last time to the woman he needed to calm his restless spirit.  I remarried, became a widow and married again, this time to the one man who will love me forever.  Both Keith and I have remained each other's confidantes, friends and even supporters in life's challenges. 

I have learned that loving relationships can be lost.  This is the human condition in a temporal world.  But the experience of love is never lost.  It remains in our memories as timeless, eternal and infinite and feeds that part of us that is our soul.