rich rich rich
Through death, I’ve learned how deep the vein of my life’s abundance runs. The eulogies and life celebrations of loved ones color the tapestry of my life and help to illuminate how rich I really am.
This wealth is less about the balance in my bank account, and more about the profound gratitude that I can actually feel expand my heart. Wow, I can’t believe how beautiful his life was. And he was a part of my life. And I was a part of his.
My Dido (grandfather) passed away two weeks today. This man who helped raise me, who was there at pinnacle and mundane moments alike, who drove me to my soccer games and delivered homemade hot soup right to our door has checked out. Sad.
I haven’t experienced the mourning process of someone close to me since I was teenaged and my grandma passed. Now older & wiser I hardly feel more equipped to handle this death. The discomfort of impermanence is a lot to swallow.
The pain I feel is a simultaneous twisting of that intense heart expansion I mentioned and the sad emptiness that comes when someone great is gone.
However, with my years I’ve cultivated a perspective that allows death to show me not only how alive I really am, but also how much abundance is infused into my current human experience.
This feels like real wealth. Being at a funeral surrounded by the many family & friends who came to pay their respects and say goodbye; hearing the stories of how this man thrived through adversity, turning a life shaped by war into a life shaped by peace; recognizing that a man who died illiterate was still able to create a beautiful, prosperous life for his family. ETC. My God. What a role model.
Yeah, sure, it’s super to be balls rich, sailing the seas on a private yacht or luxury jet-setting with my man bitches. And I’m sure that experience is available to me. But somehow that feels so superficial to the gratitude I feel for having the pleasure of knowing this great man I called Dido.
above: old school. grandparents & grandchildren