Preparing and Offering Her Body

When Elizabeth died, I was as well prepared as I could be. She had been at home, my home, in hospice care for almost two months, and I was able to be with her that entire time, letting go of almost everything else for that time.  It was heartbreakingly sad and breathtakingly beautiful – the grace and love of Elizabeth’s Presence was immense.  She was in a state of egolessness.  She no longer cared how she looked, she had no anger, almost no fear or sadness – none by the end, and she was radiant in love.

We knew she was dying, and we had time to prepare ourselves emotionally, and also in practical ways.  We are blessed that our close friend Victoria, Elizabeth’s godmother, had recently taken a training in home funerals, and found an amazing woman here who also supports families in taking care of the bodies of their loved ones. I hadn’t known this was an option before, and am so grateful that we didn’t have to send her body off to be tended to by strangers.  Kristine Bentz, of Sweetgrass Ceremonies met with us – Elizabeth, me, and our close family, a few times, to let us know what our options were and listen to our hearts.

Elizabeth left her body around 4:30 on a Sunday morning, September 23, 2012.  My sister had had the amazing foresight to arrive the night before (though scheduled to arrive several days later), so she was there, and after some time of sitting with Elizabeth, I must have woken her up, and began calling and texting family to let them know.  I wanted our family to have that day to be with her body.  The next day was for others who wanted to come and visit. Tashe and I did a ritual bathing of her body: cleaning her, touching her skin one last time, anointing her with precious essential oils, then dressing her in a brand new, simple white long dress that was the last piece of clothing Elizabeth had bought herself, not consciously knowing she’d wear it to be cremated in. We then placed beautiful flowing sheer fabrics under, around and over her. We placed her body on a massage table that Kristine had brought us, and used dry ice under her torso to keep her cool, so she could be at home for a couple of days. Finally, we showered her in rose petals…

Elizabeth Blue, home funeral,

Her toes…

Elizabeth Blue, home funeral

Elizabeth Blue’s body at home, 9/23/12

Elizabeth Blue, home funeral

Elizabeth Blue’s body at home, 9/23/12

Elizabeth Blue, home funeral

Making offerings…9/23/12

I almost forgot to include some of the practical details, as I was spared from dealing with the outside world right away.  Kristine helped to guide Elizabeth’s father through the process of becoming the “funeral director” which involved filing some paperwork at City Hall, which allowed us to then transport her body ourselves for cremation. We could have had them come to transport her body, but it just felt right to us to do the whole process ourselves.

The funeral parlor (if that is what they’re still called) provided a simple cardboard casket which Kristine brought us, that we asked friends to decorate with messages and artwork, and we placed some of Elizabeth’s belongings in with her, along with many rose petals.  The day of the cremation, our family said our last goodbyes to her at home.  It was so hard to know that I’d never touch her skin again, very hard to let go…And then we brought her to the crematorium, where we were able to gather and watch as they placed her body inside the crematory. I didn’t think I’d want to do that when she was still alive, but when it came time, it felt better to be there . I knew then that it was not Elizabeth going into that fire, but an empty vessel – as she said, her “flesh and blood holder of humanity” had ceased to exist…

Here is the email I sent after the home funeral, about the cremation and as we began to prepare for a larger, public memorial and celebration of life:

September 26, 2012

Dear Ones,

Yesterday was very difficult, and beautiful.  We gathered with close family and said our last goodbyes to Elizabeth’s body at home, placing her body into the casket, which had been decorated by friends and family, and putting her baby blanket (Silky) and some flowers in with her, to help her make the transition.  We transported her body and were able to support each other and witness the box being placed in the crematory.  I didn’t know if I’d want or be able to witness this, but I am grateful that I could be present, in the way that seeing a burial might also bring some sense of completion.

We had a lovely open house the day before, with many friends coming by with flowers, love, tears, laughter and stories.  It was good to be with others who love Elizabeth. Thank you so much to those of you who were able to be here.

We have confirmed the date and location for Elizabeth’s Celebration of Life/Memorial Service.  It will not be a religious ceremony, but one that represents Elizabeth’s diverse and deep spiritual beliefs and an opportunity to gather, celebrate her life, tell stories, share images, music, ritual, and more.
with much love,

Lucia

The Enormity of it All

The Enormity of it All

Lucia Maya, Elizabeth Blue, Jade Beall, Elizabeth Meagher

Lucia Maya and Elizabeth Blue, April, 2012.  photo by Jade Beall

Yesterday I was having lunch with a dear friend, who is very insightful and intuitive, and has two sons the same ages as my two daughters.  She asked me, with concern, for the second time in two weeks, if I was really taking the time and space to allow for the enormity of what has happened.  It felt like she was asking if I truly grasped the magnitude of what has happened to me, my daughter’s death a year ago.  I didn’t really know how to answer her and I still don’t.

On the one hand, I started to feel like maybe I wasn’t doing this grieving “right”, which I’m sure was far from what she intended.  As a mother, it’s such a familiar place to go: if this looks different, or is not what is expected by others, maybe I’m not doing it right.  Though much of my mothering has looked “different” (as is how I live my life), and I can see things I could have done better, overall I’ve mothered the best way I know how, following my heart and modeling that for my daughters.  Still, it’s easy to be vulnerable as a parent, to question if we’re doing the right thing. Guilt seems to come along with parenthood and the enormous responsibilities we’re honored with in bringing someone into the world.

What I said to my friend is that I feel like my main work now is healing through grieving, and taking the time to heal in whatever ways I can.  For me, this means a lot of time alone, listening to music where I often receive messages from Elizabeth, meditating, reading, watching tv on netflix for hours when I need to (all of “Orange is the New Black” during 2 really hard days). It means getting acupuncture and bodywork, talking to good friends, asking family to be around for difficult times, like birthdays and anniversaries, asking for support…It means saying no to many invitations and events, listening deeply to what I really want to do, and leaving when I’m tired and feeling full. It means spending time with my younger daughter, visiting her more often, connecting with her and wanting to be closer with her.

It also means seeing clients, offering the healing work I do, which I love – it helps me to focus on someone else, listening with my full presence, feeling like I’m in service and contributing, and it makes me feel better as I receive the Reiki as it flows through me to my client.  Teaching Reiki and facilitating healing circles and retreats also brings me joy, and is another way that I feel Elizabeth’s presence, sitting with me and supporting me, as I ask to be the clearest channel for the teachings to flow through. It also allows me the opportunity to share some of what I learned from Elizabeth about living and dying with grace, which helps bring some greater meaning to this intense journey of transformation.

It means writing, combing through my emails and journals, Elizabeth’s writing and photographs, and sharing these with all of you, listening for the guidance about the timing. Receiving feedback about how this affects you has been an amazing balm for my heart.

But, am I able to absorb the enormity of what has happened, that my adored and beloved and challenging and worrisome and beautiful and smart and difficult and adoring and creative and wise 22 year old first-born daughter has died? No, absolutely not.  Do I cry as I write these words? yes. There is no way I could absorb or take in all of this, even one year later it continues to seep in, little by little, day by day, and I do my best to stay present to it, to grief, stay present to Elizabeth’s spirit, stay present to my living daughter, Julianna, stay present to my partner, and mostly, stay present to my heart.

Leaving Her Body…

Elizabeth Blue, Jade Beall, Elizabeth Meagher

Elizabeth Blue ~ April, 2012 by Jade Beall

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One year ago today, the email below I sent to our close friends and family. Now I share it here, with those of you who have joined me on this transformative, healing journey.

As I prepared for this first anniversary of my daughter Elizabeth’s death, I anticipated it would be challenging. I’ve been learning how to care for myself, my needs, better and better throughout this time, so I asked close family and friends to gather, a very small group who knew and love Elizabeth (and me!) dearly, to come and spend time together.  We’ve spent the last couple of days telling stories, looking at photos, doing art projects with Elizabeth’s image, eating, laughing, resting, loving Elizabeth and each other…

We plan to begin the process of releasing her ashes today, spreading some in one of her favorite places in Tucson, with plans to spread more in Berkeley and Hawaii later, two of her other favorite places. I honor her and remember her every day, and oddly, today doesn’t feel as momentous or intense as I expected – I’m wondering now if the emotion will come when everyone leaves and I’m alone again…in this first year, even the hardest days have been fine, as I’ve watched myself experiencing emotion like never before, and always able to be aware that it will pass, that all I need to do is be present and keep trusting my heart. Thank you all for being here with me in this first year. Your presence from near and far, old friends and new, strangers and family, has meant so much. I am so grateful for each of you. Thank you.

Leaving Her Body

September 23, 2012

Dear Ones,

Elizabeth left her body this morning around 4:30 am.  She was peaceful, she knew I was right with her, holding her hand, talking to her and loving her. Something woke me at 4am, and I went to check on her. As I heard her breathing, I knew she was very close, and sat down to be with her.  I was thinking it could be a few hours still, so was about to lay down on the couch, when I heard her take one breath, and then realized it was her last one.  Her heart continued for a while…

Since yesterday morning her breathing had changed, and Greg (her dad) and I had spent the whole day sitting close, talking to her, telling her how much we love her, and how many people love her and have been affected by her.  She was mostly in another world, but every few hours would open her eyes, and was still so clear, with the same love and grace in her gaze.

I am so grateful for the gentle waves of these passages, that each new wave has washed over, giving me time to adjust, to accept, to move into the next stage gracefully, diving in deep and emerging with an ever more cracked open heart, and knowing there’s still more and still more….

As usual, we are doing something a bit unusual – we are keeping Elizabeth’s body at home for a few days, having cleaned, anointed and prepared her body ourselves.  We will have a visiting time here, for anyone who is in Tucson, if you want to say goodbye to her body, and connect with me and family.  She will be cremated in a couple of days.

We are also planning a large, public memorial service in 2-3 weeks.  We will honor and celebrate her life, with music, stories, photos and her poetry.  Do not feel you need to come and see her body,  it is simply a possibility if you want to say goodbye in this way.

More to come…

love and blessings,
Lucia

This photo is of her last night, still beautiful and at peace.

Elizabeth Blue, Elizabeth Meagher, hospice

Elizabeth Blue her last night, 9/22/12

Elizabeth Blue,  Jade Beall, Elizabeth Meagher

Elizabeth Blue, April, 2012 by Jade Beall

Slowing Down – emails from the depths, September, 2012

Slowing Way Down

Some of the last emails I sent, about my older daughter Elizabeth Blue’s journey towards the ultimate release, from the two weeks before her transition last year. 

September 14, 2012

Dear Ones,
things here are slowing waaay down.  No words now, sometimes nodding or shaking her head in response to a question, sometimes that seems too much effort.

Elizabeth still has no pain, is comfortable and has no fear that I feel…there are lots of folks assisting her, both here and in the other realms too.  She’s not eating still, and only taking small sips of water.  The hospice nurse and our doctor/friend Ann Marie assure us that all is progressing as expected and in the best possible way as far as being peaceful and comfortable.  Even throughout the day there are changes, as tonight she had a hard time taking one of the medicines through a straw, so we skipped that one…it’s probably only days left now, but it’s still hard to say.  She’s breathing fine, a bit different now, and very inward, very much connected with the other worlds now.

Today 10 of Elizabeth’s friends came to say goodbye, led by Samantha, her closest friend, and it was so beautiful.  Full of tears, laughter, stories, reminiscences – they each took a turn holding her hand, kneeling by her bedside and talking to her, kissing her, loving her and telling her goodbye. It was exquisite.  They were all so loving, so respectful and sweet with us.  Amazing.

Feeling how precious we each are, remembering to tell those you love how you feel, letting the small things go, knowing that each day is precious, each smile, each kiss… for us all, not just Elizabeth.

sending love to you all ~ if you’re receiving this email know that I love you.
love,
Lucia

Samantha Salazar, Elizabeth Blue, Elizabeth Meagher, hospice

Elizabeth’s best friend Samantha and their circle of friends came to say goodbye, 9/14/2012

Lucia Maya, Elizabeth Blue, Elizabeth Meagher, hospice

Lucia and Elizabeth snuggle, 9/12/12

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

September 15, 2012

…a rare and REALLY hard day, watching Elizabeth visibly recede, and I was compelled, like I was a zombie, to watch some of E’s video diaries, of her when she was healthy, and then right when she was finishing chemo, and so hopeful and herself… it was beyond heartbreaking, and I’ve been avoiding going back and revisiting other times, but today i got pulled in.  The rest of the day I can barely be present with her. Can’t sit still, am angry, rageful, so sad…

September 19, 2012

Dear Ones,
Elizabeth hasn’t been eating for 2 weeks now, except for these few times: it was lovely that she ate what seemed to be her last meal from Zelie, some fruit and toast for breakfast.  Then 4 days later when Greg arrived, with her favorite dessert, carrot cake, she ate a few bites, and then our dear friend Tita brought by some food, and Greg prepared and fed Elizabeth a whole meal of beans, rice, avocado, quesadilla – all her favorite foods, and it was so beautiful, her being able to receive that from her dad, who has such a deep connection to food and sharing his love for people through food…Then I was writing to him about how lovely that was, and realizing that I couldn’t remember the last food I’d fed her, and felt really sad.  A few hours later I offered her food again, (now days since she’d said yes to eating) and she said yes, as though she knew what I’d been thinking.  I fed her a perfect peach, and she gave me the gift of being able to feed her one more time…

She’s had almost no water for that long too (just enough to take pills and a few more sips), though the last few days it’s been hard for her to swallow, so she gets no pills, only 2 medications to give now, both liquid.  She has occasional ice chips, but often says no to that too.

She started having some pain a couple of days ago, so has had liquid morphine 3 times, but no pain yesterday or today.  She still has tremors/shakiness so gets liquid lorazepam a couple of times a day for that.  She’s sleeping much of each day, partly from the medication, and partly from having so little energy. She’s wanting to be alone more, doesn’t want any visitors and some days doesn’t want me around, which is different.  So it really feels like she’s disconnecting from this world…

Given all this, it’s quite remarkable that when there are no medications in her, she’s still quite clear, with a small smile to greet me in the morning, and this morning gave a thumbs up to my questions of how she slept and how she was feeling…She still rubs her lips together when i put lip balm on, like she always has, just very slowly now.  And she doesn’t want me to massage or put lotion on her now – it seems like too much stimulation, and bringing her back into the awareness of the body.

She’s not been talking for quite a while, but can still sometimes nod or shake her head, though even that takes effort now, using a lot of energy.   She is still comfortable and seems very peaceful.

So there’s no way to say how much longer she might be here, though without any water it seems it can’t be much more.  She is amazingly strong, and so courageous and loving.  She did say yes a few days ago when I asked if she feels ready to leave, and if she feels that she’s completed everything she came here to do.  That hadn’t been true a few weeks ago, so I was grateful to hear that.

Sending much love to all of you, and connecting at the heart…
love,
Lucia

Elizabeth Blue, Elizabeth Meagher, hospice

Elizabeth today (9/19/12), with her newest blue bracelet and a silky blanket under her head, both from Aunt Tashe, with her bunny by her side. She’s wearing a favorite ring from my Aunt Amy. Surrounded and enveloped in so much love…

Some Days with Elizabeth Blue…

Some Days with Elizabeth

Preface:  I am struggling a bit this week, the week leading to the first year anniversary of my daughter Elizabeth’s death.  Partly for the obvious reasons – the intensity of this loss resounding in my body and mind and spirit to a degree that at times I can’t remember the simplest things, like where an acupuncture office is that I’ve been to a dozen times; I’m thinking of her constantly, with memories of her at all stages of her life popping up, sometimes making me laugh, often in tears…Today I smiled as I put on sunglasses and thought of Elizabeth’s love of sunglasses and how she always accessorized with them in the most artful way, and then I passed the hospital where she had brain surgery, and remembered the neurosurgeon sitting with me in the waiting area, telling me that the surgery was not successful, he could only remove part of the tumor, and that her brain was swelling to such a degree that he had to stop operating. At first I felt sad, and then I heard myself saying out loud “you were released!” and was able to smile and feel joy for/with her…

The less obvious reason I’ve been struggling: I’ve been posting these past year’s emails from Elizabeth’s and my journey and have had this strong sense that they each needed to be shared before the anniversary date of each update. But I’ve fallen behind, and the last few were posted “late” and I have several more to share before we get to the anniversary itself, in less than a week, on September 23.

It feels like the timing has been in large part due to Elizabeth’s guidance – that in the beginning she was urging me on, also aware of the dates and the timing being important, but as her spirit is moving to other levels, the earthly concepts of time are less important, so I haven’t received guidance to post as urgently in the past two months, and I’ve slowed down. Also, as I share these writings I (re)experience the journey, and it feels like there will be another sense of finality in sharing these emails leading to her transition…So this is all to warn you that this may be an intense week for you as well, if you read these in real-time. I’ll be sharing a month’s worth of transformation in a very condensed time, and you can choose to read them as they come, or you may prefer to take your time and stretch it out a bit.  It feels important however, for me to share all the emails by this first anniversary.  I will continue to share Elizabeth’s writing, as well as my own.

Elizabeth Blue, Elizabeth Meagher, lymphoma,

Elizabeth Blue, June, 2012

Though certainly sad on some level, ultimately my hope is that this story is as uplifting and transformative for you as it is for me.  May these offerings bring you some comfort and inspiration on your journey!

This image is how I’m seeing her in my mind’s eye right now…

 

 

 

 

 

September 4, 2012

Dear Ones,
today I woke up, as I often do, to the sound of wooden bracelets lightly clinking together.  Elizabeth’s bed in the living room is visible from our room, and I have a direct line of sight to her, so I can see her begin to move her right arm and hand, as though she is dancing slowly by herself, and making quiet music with her bracelets.  She’s been wearing at least 6 bracelets for weeks, given to her by different people – 2 she was gifted from Tashe, my sister, one was a gift from Ann Marie, our friend and E’s doctor, and the 3 wooden ones are mine, gifted to me from my partner Zelie.  Elizabeth has also been given rings from several women who’ve visited – as she plays with and holds their hands, they’ve been inspired/instructed to leave a ring with her.  She enjoys playing with them and looking at them all.

I’ve been reading out loud to Elizabeth (one of my favorite things when my daughters were young, and still), and the first book that came to me was The Little Prince. I hadn’t remembered the story, but it was an amazingly perfect book to read at this time, for me very sweet and very reassuring, about love and the process of leaving one’s body. I highly recommend it for all.  I’ve also been reading her Winnie the Pooh, which is lovely.  We’ve been listening for weeks to the Graceful Passages CD, which she always says yes to when I ask, and also still loving the Coleman Barks readings of Rumi poetry.  We have lots of beautiful relaxation types of music, which Elizabeth enjoys too.  She likes being read to, and music, but then also wants time for quiet, when she’ll say no to offerings of words or music.

We’ve been enjoying this time of more quiet, more spaciousness, and Elizabeth seems to want to have time alone each day. (It is just me and Zelie here, with Elizabeth’s father Greg coming on the weekends from San Francisco.) It is a bit hard to know her preferences, as she might answer 2 different ways to the same question, depending on how it’s asked, so mostly I’m following my intuition and staying in the flow, reading her as best as I can, and trying to take care of myself too. It’s hard to tell also how much she understands, she has confusion and has little short-term memory, though long-term seems much better. Her expression is almost always neutral, and she only answers yes or no when asked, and if pressed might give a word or two explanation. She is  still not stating anything on her own, or asking any questions, which is SO different from her previous expressive self, since she could first speak!  She continues to smile so sweetly when we smile at her, and only occasionally expresses pain, her neck sometimes hurts when we turn her, but as soon as she’s positioned well, she’s not in pain.

This morning I was talking to Elizabeth about how hard it’s been for me to believe that she’s dying (throughout this process with cancer, and still, though I’m finally starting to believe it), and she said the same is true for her.  (I was talking about a poem of hers I read, that startled me as it seemed to be speaking of dying, but then I realized it was written as she was preparing to leave Tucson for Seattle 2 years ago – it’s “Bird’s Nest”, here.) I asked if she felt ready, and she said no.  I asked if she felt she needed to do or say anything to prepare, and she said no.  So I said perhaps she’s not ready yet because today’s not the day, and that she would be ready when it is the day, and she responded with holding up crossed fingers, which was both funny and so dear and moving.  It does feel that she is getting closer to the end, though it’s still really hard to see how or when that will happen.  I’m doing my best to be present and live each day as though it could be her last, and my own as well.

Physically, she is having 3-4 episodes of tremors/increased heart rate each day (due to the tumor in her brain), and sometimes they bother her, sometimes not, mainly related to the severity. This morning was the most intense one – they’re similar to the full body shivering one might have when really cold, and include her torso and her right arm.  The medication helps quickly most often, though it makes her sleepy or “numb” she says, so she prefers not to have it when possible.  Her head continues to swell, and the tumor in her neck feels like it’s growing, especially as it causes some pain with movement.  I think it moves the vertebrae out of place, and some healer-friends have been able to help it shift back several times, giving her relief for many days or weeks.

She has been eating well still, and drinking some.  The other day, she was holding a rose, and suddenly I realized she’d taken a bite!  Must have smelled really good…though she said it didn’t taste good.

Elizabeth still says she is not afraid, her mind is quiet, and she’s peaceful.  I’m really grateful for that, and for each day.  Sometimes I go into stories of past or future, and get overwhelmed with grief, but then I can simply move into gratitude for her presence right now, feel the warmth of her skin, look into her eyes, place my hand on her heart and feel that love, and all is well.

love and blessings,
Lucia

Elizabeth Blue, Elizabeth Meagher, hospice

Elizabeth liked ice packs on her head – here she was being funny in this subtle way of hers…

Elizabeth Blue, Elizabeth Meagher, Zelie Duvauchelle, hospice

Zelie and Elizabeth, September 4, 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

September 11, 2012

Dear Ones,

There has  been a noticeable shift this past week, as Elizabeth has stopped eating and drinking for the most part. She occasionally (every 2-4 days) has said yes to something – Greg brought her favorite dessert of carrot cake this weekend, and she had a few bites, and our friend Tita brought some wonderful beans and rice (another favorite) which she ate as well, but overall she’s stopped eating and drinking.  We are not pushing her to eat or drink, simply continuing to offer, as we’ve been told that often the wisdom of the body is to stop, and that it’s a painless and easy way to leave.

For quite a while she’s needed some encouragement to eat – she might say no to being hungry, but then would say yes to a specific food…But something really shifted last Wednesday – she started only drinking enough to swallow her pills and then saying no when I asked if she wants more.  And started saying no to everything i offered her to eat.    Right after I wrote this, she said yes to food, and ate a peach…so it continues to change, but that was the only thing she’s eaten since a dinner on Saturday. There is this fine line between offering and encouraging or urging. I want her to live as long as possible, but don’t to prolong her life if it means suffering. It feels like the best I can do is listen to her, and when she’s not clear, then follow my intuition, knowing her as well as I do for these 22 years. I hear from others some concern about her not eating and drinking, and it certainly has felt strange as a mother, not to urge her to eat, but I continue to trust her and listen.

This has brought the reality of her leaving that much closer, and I am aware of how precious it is that I can massage her arms and feet, clean her skin, hear her voice (more rarely now), kiss her cheek… I am deeply grateful for the blessing of each day with Elizabeth still here in her body, and at the same time wanting to let her go, which is the most challenging contrast of intentions and emotions I’ve ever experienced.  The grief is ever-present, and mostly just below the surface, as I stay with her in this journey, present as I possibly can be.

I’ve just finished reading “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho to Elizabeth, which I loved, and she seemed to enjoy, usually saying yes when I would ask if she wanted me to continue.  It doesn’t seem she is following the story, but seems to like the sound of my voice. I’ve now started reading pieces from Anne Lamott’s “Tender Mercies”, and though I’d read it years ago, am amazed at how perfect each book has been for the process Elizabeth is in, and perhaps more so for me!  She is not wanting music lately, prefers me to be with her, even if we’re not talking, though she still wants some time alone.

I keep delaying sending this, as things change each day, but I know many of you are wanting to know what life is like here, so this feels somehow like a lot is missing, but it’s still enough.

much love,
Lucia

Elizabeth Blue’s Life in Pictures

Elizabeth Blue, Jade Beall, Elizabeth Meagher

Elizabeth Blue, 4/2012 (by Jade Beall)

Elizabeth Blue, Jade Beall, Elizabeth Meagher,

Elizabeth Blue, 4/2012 (by Jade Beall)

As we move closer to the one year anniversary of my daughter Elizabeth’s death, on September 23, she is very present with me, giving me many messages and signs that she is close.  I will share more of that in another post.  For now – I am getting the message that it is time to share this video again.  This is a slideshow of Elizabeth’s life, from beginning to end, with many of the people, animals, events and passages in her life.

The professional photo shoot done during the last year of her life was done by Jade Beall, who recently dedicated a blog post with photos and story of that photo shoot, and I will be sharing many more of those extraordinary photos soon. Here are 2 favorites.

This slideshow was created with love and is shared with love.  (And you might want to have some tissues handy…)

Moving Into Acceptance and Enlightenment

Moving Into Acceptance and Enlightenment

Early August, 2012: Emails and other writings from Lucia Maya

These are emails I wrote from the second week after my 22 year old daughter, Elizabeth Blue, came home from the hospital under hospice care last summer.  She arrived at my house and we quickly settled into a routine of caring for her physically in this new state. Emotionally adjusting to this unexpected new paradigm, appearing to be the end of her life, was a bit more of a challenge. In a very short time,  Elizabeth had moved into the most beautiful state of love, acceptance, peace and grace – true enlightenment, that I have ever witnessed.  This guided the rest of us and we followed her lead…

August 5, 2012: a group email
Hi all,
I’ve not been writing because there’s not much to say – it’s very quiet here. But I can understand you all might want a window in to what the days are like…

Elizabeth is sleeping much of the time, on a bed set up in the living room, with flowers all around, a lovely altar that she can see at the foot of the bed, essential oils diffusing much of the time.  She has been massaged several times a day by my sister Tashe, who left yesterday, and is hugely missed by me and the rest of the family!  Elizabeth doesn’t seem to notice when people come or go, and has no sense of time it appears… I am doing some massage as well, keeping her limbs moving and loving her with touch. Elizabeth is not able to use much of her body, mainly just her right hand, and she can speak and smile, though still mostly a whisper, from having had the breathing tube in so long, but last night she did start to speak a bit louder and it was lovely to hear her voice! When I told her that, she said, “I bet.” Hard to tell when she’s being funny, but it seems she doesn’t get jokes now, or perhaps I’m not getting hers – yesterday i kissed her and said “i want to bite you”, meaning she was so yummy i wanted to eat her up, and she replied, with no expression, “please don’t”.   When I asked her later if she preferred being shifted to her back or her other side, she asked, “what other side?”  It seems she has little sense of the body at this point.  She’s said no every time we’ve asked her if she is having any pain, but this morning said yes, and when i asked her where, and named several possibilities, she couldn’t say where. I gave her some pain meds and she’s been sleeping mostly since then.

She eats usually one small meal each day, declining most food that’s offered throughout the day, and drinking some.   Usually she has some fruit,  and something like a tamale, last night she said yes to a veggie burger with guacamole, but then only ate a couple of bites. It seems she’s eating less each day, but then she surprises us and eats a lot one day.   She’s taking almost no medication, other than continuing on the anti-seizure med, now an antibiotic because she got a UTI, and something to help her sleep at night, though she may not need that still now that she’s off the steroids which were keeping her awake.

Her friend Ava came down from Seattle for a visit this week, and today her oldest friend Brieana is here from California, and she has seemed to enjoy them, mostly listening but talking with them some too.  My dad and my step mother, Alexandra, my brother David, have all been here this week too, and her dad Greg is here again for a long weekend, and plans to continue that schedule for now.  My mom is staying and it’s really wonderful to have her presence and her help. Zelie (my partner who’d been away since Elizabeth’s recurrence of lymphoma, mid-June) came home on Wednesday and it’s been wonderful to have her home.  Victoria (my close friend and Elizabeth’s godmother) arrives tomorrow for most of the week, and that will be wonderful I’m sure too.

Elizabeth has said a couple of times this week that her mind is quiet, and yesterday when I asked what is going on inside, she said “nothing, and a lot”.  She had one night with a lot of anxiety, and she and I talked more about death, fear of the unknown, her fear of disappointing people (especially her grandmother, who she’s been quite close to), and we’ve each been making it as clear as we can how much we love her and will miss her, and that we will be ok when she goes, that we want her to leave whenever she’s ready, and we will be fine with her timing, and that she’s not disappointing us, that we are incredibly proud of her and everything about her.  Then Zelie, Tashe and I all did Reiki on her for quite a while, and she’s seemed more at peace since then.

It’s a very strange and interesting time, as I am deeply sad, and in acceptance, and possibly some denial too, as it feels like the Elizabeth I’ve always known is already gone, and I love this one in front of me as well, but I’m grieving and loving her at the same time…and numb some of the time too, as I seem to run out of emotion after some time.

Thank you all for your continued prayers, love and support.
love,
Lucia

August 8, 2012
Some friends who do energy healing and can “see” into the body as well as angels and guides came to do some work on Elizabeth.  This was my reply about how she was doing after the visit:
She is good, very quiet, more inward, wanting time alone, which is rare for her.  She seems more at peace, and it feels like what transpired yesterday, first felt like a move towards “recovery”, and now feels more like a move towards some resolution, clearing, and bringing all of us gathered into more peace and center…we’ll see what each day brings.
love,  Lucia

Our friend’s experience of working with Elizabeth:
“the energy was incredible! I grounded while there but it was a surprise to see Elizabeth’s guardian angel actually materialize. At that exact time, she smiled really big and seemed to relax…I saw you and Elizabeth connect on a level not often seen, it was so deep.
Elizabeth felt at peace as soon as the guardian angel descended and spread her wings. That’s about the same time M. told her she could change her  mind if she wanted. I think her guardian angel was telling her the same, but there seemed to be a profound energy  change in the room.”
August 9, 2012: to a friend:
Elizabeth’s cat, Blue, can come in and visit her from the guest house where he’s living now with my mom, who loves him.  Interestingly (and very surprisingly), Elizabeth’s not very interested in him and none of the animals are showing interest in her, which is really different than in the past. She’s always been an animal person, more connected with them than with most humans, and they always love her…so clearly there’s been a big shift (in her energy and her identity), partly I think they don’t recognize her, even her own beloved Blue.
August 12, 2012: about a home funeral
We had learned about the possibility of a home funeral: being able to take care of Elizabeth’s body at home, with the guidance and support of a wonderful woman in Tucson, Kristine Bentz of Sweetgrass Ceremonies. She came to listen and share information with our whole family who gathered in circle with her.  It was incredibly helpful to have her support during this time and later. This was Kristine’s email after the meeting:
“I left awash in goosebumps today. Despite the heat. Thank you for being so courageous and sitting in a circle to open the conversation we shared. I do not pretend to know what you feel in your journey with Elizabeth. I can only offer this: I felt love overflowing your home and her being. She is surrounded in beauty. She is magnificent. Your caregiving circle is so strong…I am willing to walk beside you on this continuum, support you and be a resource whenever the need arises.”

August 10, 2012: from Lucia’s journal
We are being given permission to be intimate with Elizabeth and with one another in a way that’s not ordinarily possible.

Elizabeth In Enlightenment – she is being completely present, no thought or cares of the past or the future. No ego, no artifice, no irritation or anger, only calm presence, with loving and compassionate smiles.

August 12, 2012: a group email
Dear Ones,

the days flow seamlessly into one another, and time no longer seems to exist in this world we are inhabiting. I have no idea when I last wrote, or what was said, so I’ll try to give a sense of what is true now.
Elizabeth continues to be in a beautiful state, gracing us with her sweet presence.  She speaks little still, and makes her needs known, mainly by all of us guessing and intuiting, then asking her for confirmation.  She expresses no desires, no complaints, no irritation or boredom, though she will have an opinion if we offer her choices of what to eat, or which shirt to wear, etc.  She seems content, and smiles are her main expression.  She is loving and patient with us all, accepting of our desire to please her. Gives us long thumbs-up when we’ve put her in a new position and ask if she’s comfortable, with a smile:
Elizabeth Blue, hospice, enlightenment,

Elizabeth giving us a thumbs-up

These last few days we’ve had Greg, her dad, here, and Victoria, her godmother, and there’s been a really sweet bedtime ritual of hands-on pouring love into her, with all of us gathered.  Zelie (my partner) has sung her a lullaby and she has fallen asleep this way some nights.  It feels like such a gift she is offering us all, this time together, and with her.  Here we are finishing up (missing Julianna (her sister, my younger daughter), who’s been a part of all of this too):
Elizabeth Blue, hospice,

Lovely family bedtime ritual

Elizabeth’s appetite has increased, so she’s eating well, several small (sometimes large) meals a day, (I’m sure helped by the wonderful food provided by Victoria, and last night Greg made Elizabeth’s favorite of bruschetta!), drinking plenty of water, tea and juice, and still appears to be losing weight.  We’ve all been eating dinner together sitting with her, as she says yes when we ask if she wants that now.  She has been on minimal medication, a couple days this week she had some pain, but mainly in her hip, which has gotten tweaked from positioning perhaps, though we’re being careful as can be as we turn her and try to find the most comfortable positions.  Just ibuprofen and tylenol is all she’s needed, and several of us are doing energy work on her as well. This just changed today, as she’s been having pain in her neck (where we believe the cancer had spread), a wound on her leg that’s slow to heal, and her hip, so she’s needed more pain meds today than in the last week combined.  Every day is different, and we all try to stay in the flow, in the moment.
Some of us sense that while Elizabeth is still here, she is also connecting with other worlds, other realities, weaving a web of love that will help to carry her into this transition and beyond, that will help us stay connected with her in spirit once she leaves her body.  Here is a beautiful image, with a lovely golden heart on her brow, that was visible in all the photos, though not to my eyes. She has rose petals on her arm, and a beautiful crystal on her heart.  She’s been holding that crystal most of the time since it was gifted to her:
Elizabeth Blue, acceptance, hospice, enlightenment

Elizabeth Blue with rose petals and a golden heart

She is very sensitive (as always, but intensified) to those around her, the moods, energies, etc.  This morning I’ve had the luxury of sitting alone with her, and put on Constance Demby’s Sacred Space music (Elizabeth most often says yes to music – Ashanna’s crystal bowls, Beyonce, Mozart, mostly soft relaxing music, though sometimes rap) and went into heart meditation, and she joined in and fell deep asleep, even now the doorbell just rang and didn’t disturb her…She is mostly accepting of whoever and whatever is being presented, and seems to adapt her process accordingly.
I’d been giving her some homeopathic remedies that had been recommended, and she took them willingly, but yesterday I had the sense that she really didn’t want or need to be taking them, and when I asked her, she said no, she didn’t want to take them.  I sensed, and asked, “you want to keep it simple?” and she nodded.  That feels like the main message I’m getting – keep it simple, tuning in, being present with her when we’re with her, accepting what she has to offer, to the best of our abilities…
Yesterday was the deepest peace I’ve felt in a while, even on my walk with our dog Tilly in the neighborhood, which is when my sadness usually emerges – seeing the college students moving back in, preparing to start the semester, and listening to my internal story of how Elizabeth won’t be among them.  But yesterday there was an ability to stay present with the peace I feel when I’m with her, in each moment, and carry that with me out into the outside world.  I am grateful for that, and for each minute of each day that I am able to spend here with her.
sending much love and the hope that you can all feel Elizabeth’s love and presence from here,
Lucia

A Long Journey from the ICU to Hospice – Emails from July, 2012

These entries from my emails and journals from July, 2012, one year ago, tell the story of the hardest period in my daughter’s time of living with cancer.  Elizabeth Blue was in the ICU after a recurrence of lymphoma in her brain.  Since June 12, 2012, she had had two rounds of chemo which did not shrink the tumor, followed by brain surgery in an attempt to remove the tumor, which removed some, but also caused massive swelling in her brain. This necessitated a second surgery to remove some of her skull to give her brain room to expand, followed by a stroke. Even with all this, I was still holding the vision of her full recovery, now including rehab for her to learn to walk again.  Though I could feel the weight of all this news preparing me, I was angry at the nurse who first mentioned the word hospice.  I’m now grateful, as it finally propelled me to ask the doctors for a realistic assessment of what we could expect. And then, the ultimate devastating news, that there was no more treatment, and we should consider hospice care.

Though this was extremely difficult, the grace and radiance of love was immense.  Even as I read back through this period, I’m astounded at what we were all able to be present for, and that we did not simply endure, but our hearts expanded and opened more fully than I imagined possible.

7/22/12
Hi all,
sorry i don’t have good news – Elizabeth had a stroke which is affecting her legs – as of this morning she can’t move them.  They can see from the scan that nothing else is affected. They believe it’s because of the swelling (in her brain), and that is putting pressure on small arteries – one must have bled and that’s what caused the stroke.  This is devastating, but they are hopeful working with rehab will help, though that is down the road a ways.  She doesn’t know this, at least we haven’t said it directly, though she was sleeping in the room with pain meds when the doctor was telling us and showing us the MRI.

She still has the breathing tube in which is very uncomfortable, although she’s breathing fine, they’re concerned about when she gets too relaxed with the pain meds that she won’t be able to clear her lungs and throat.  I’m pushing to get it removed, but of course am concerned about her safety as well.  Hopefully tomorrow…They don’t want to take it out and have to put it back, which of course i don’t either.

The good news:  She is able to understand all we are saying, and responding well with yes or no with her head and her right hand.  She can follow requests easily, like to stop biting on the breathing tube, though it’s hard not to do, since it’s so uncomfortable.  They are giving her more anti-anxiety meds today, which should help some.  They expect her to be able to speak fine, once they take the tube out.

Her left hand is still not moving, but that’s from the continued swelling in the brain, and the doctors are sure that will come back once the swelling lessens.  The problem is they’re trying everything and nothing seems to be reducing the swelling.  It’s not increasing, but not decreasing either.  Her face is less swollen, and she can open both eyes today, which is good.

That’s all for now. Thank you all for your messages and love and prayers.
much love,  Lucia

July 22, 2012 – Lucia’s journal

today Elizabeth had a stroke. i can’t believe i’m writing that. this is not entirely unexpected, even though she’s 22.  she has lymphoma, that recently reappeared in her brain, and there was concern she could have a seizure that would lead to a stroke, but this happened because the tumor and/or swelling of the brain, is putting pressure on small arteries, and one of them must have bled. that’s what they think. so the nice young Indian doctor, neurosurgeon resident shows us, me and Greg, the father of Elizabeth who I was once married to for 11 years, the MRI done this morning.  they did this particular MRI because this morning she couldn’t move her feet, so they were suspicious.  suspicious is not a good thing when you’re in the ICU in critical condition.

July 23, 2012 (still in ICU at UMC hospital) – Lucia’s journal

stayed up with her all night, the anniversary of my father’s death. sitting vigil, not wanting her to leave to be with him on this potent day. praying all night to my ancestors, her guides, all the forces, asking them to have mercy. she stayed that night. 

7/24/12 – hospice 

Dear friends and family,
I am exhausted, with a long night up with Elizabeth last night, and pretty devastating updates from the medical team.  They (her oncology doctors) do not think that going forward with chemo or radiation will have any significant benefit, and would have side effects that aren’t worth the possible short additional time it might give Elizabeth.  The neurosurgeon is clear he can’t operate again, as the swelling in her brain is too risky, and he’s already removed the tumor he could access  So this leaves few options, other than prayer, love and miracles.  They are recommending hospice, once we get her stable enough to move out of the hospital.  We do keep hearing stories of people who were told there was no hope, and then recovered from different means, so I’m open to a miracle, and I’m also preparing myself for the end of her life as best as I can.

Elizabeth still hasn’t been able to speak, as the breathing tube/ventilator is still in, though every day they’ve been hopeful she’ll have enough strength to remove it, and now “promising” tomorrow morning, but each time they’ve been worried that she will be fine for a while, but not have the strength to breathe on her own after some hours, and would have to reinsert it.  They can do that, it’s just traumatic.  I think they understand that at this point, it’s a priority that Elizabeth be able to communicate her wishes, so I think it will happen tomorrow.

Elizabeth is being quite clear about what she wants (ie who in the room with her – mainly me and her dad, Greg, etc), but with only yes and no, and some one-handed communication, it’s limited.  So hopefully when they do take out the tubes, she will be able to speak!  It’s so uncomfortable, she tries to pull it out when she gets a chance.  She knows generally what we’ve heard from the doctors, and her spirit feels very low.  That was just this afternoon, and we’re all full of emotion….We haven’t yet asked her if she wants to try treatment still, or if she just wants to try to come home.  Tomorrow that conversation will happen I think. She will sleep better tonight hopefully, with some good sleep meds, so we should all be better rested in the morning – I’m home and Greg is in her room with her tonight, and Victoria (close friend and godmother) is sleeping in the hospital too, in a small family/waiting room.   My mom is here and Julianna (my younger daughter who was 19 then) of course, and everyone is being so wonderful and supportive.

much love to you all,  Lucia

Jul 26, 2012 (my responses to emails from friends)

it feels like the decision is made, but we never know what the divine has in store for us until the next moment…

…staying present with what is, and in sorrow and  much gratitude…

…she is so blessed with such grace, and i can feel she is being held in the arms of the divine. as are we all.

7/27/12
Hi all,
thank you all for your continued prayers, love and the work all are doing on behalf of Elizabeth and the rest of us.

Elizabeth came home from the hospital yesterday at 5pm and is comfortably settled in her (hospital) bed in the living room.  My sister is here and my niece, my mom is still here, Elizabeth’s dad, Greg, is staying as well, and her grandparents from Boston came yesterday. Julianna is incredible, so present and loving and tuned into everything that’s going on. I’m in awe.

The hospice people have been wonderful, and especially Ann Marie, our dear friend and Elizabeth’s doctor, has been amazing, helping get her settled, with meds and everything we need.

Elizabeth is able to speak, though very quietly, and is really sweet, expressing lots of gratitude (every time someone brings her something or does something for her, she says thank you, even when they’ve already left the room – hard to describe the childlike innocence and beauty in this.).  She is different, speaking slowly, and usually only in response to a question – she says her mind is quiet.  She is also drinking lots and eating in small amounts.  She is present, and also feels far away, more peaceful, with less anxiety and agitation since coming home from the hospital. She’s not asking many questions now, and isn’t even interested in having her beloved cat Blue come visit her.

Today was full, with hospice folks (nurse, social worker and chaplain), and then E’s best friend Samantha came and showed her the tattoo she got yesterday of E B (for Elizabeth Blue) on her arm (made us all cry – Elizabeth has always told Samantha she should get this done, and when she heard about it this morning said now she knows Sam really LOVES her), and shared stories of dozens of E’s friends here who sent their love and tears and stories with her. Finally a friend who does sound healing came and played the crystal bowls which Elizabeth loved, and it was a beautiful experience for all of us.  The radiance in Elizabeth and in the room is incredible.

I know it’s devastating for all of us to lose her, or even the idea of losing her, and I imagine for those who aren’t here it might be even harder.  If I stop and feel what this looks and feels like from outside, it feels overwhelmingly sad, but when I’m present  in each moment it feels fine.  The minute by minute process is beautiful and grace-filled, and I am truly blessed to have this time with her, and for so many of our family and friends to be close by.  It does feel like she is at peace, doing whatever she needs to do to complete.

There are many (hundreds even) who are doing prayers and healing work for Elizabeth all over, and I think this combined with all the love here is helping us through this incredibly difficult passage.  It does not feel like the time to go searching for miracles, but to be fully present to the miracle that is happening in each moment. We are still in the 40 day healing intensive that Elizabeth and I started July 2 and it goes til August 12. I know that healing takes many forms and looks different for each of us, and I have to trust that this is exactly the healing process we need, even though it’s not our preference.

Here’s a photo of Elizabeth from today.  She is even more beautiful each day.

love to you all,
Lucia

Elizabeth Blue, hospice,

Elizabeth’s first day at home in hospice

July 29, 2012 (from an email to a friend)

…she is being showered with love and is a radiant state of grace. it is heartbreaking and breathtakingly beautiful.

Elizabeth Blue, Lucia Maya, hospice,

Elizabeth Blue at home in hospice

7/29/12 (to a good friend)

hi John,
she knows she is dying, and is speaking very little. mostly if spoken to, she’ll reply or respond to a question.

when i was asking her questions yesterday about if she wants to be resuscitated if she stops breathing etc, she said no, and then i asked about who she wants to make decisions if she can’t verbalize and she said me, and then i asked if there is anything we can do to make her more comfortable, and she said, to stop asking questions. love it.

so i don’t think she cares about anything beyond the moment right now, and planning for anything, even if she wants to eat something doesn’t make sense to her, or matter.  she’s beyond that.

i trust we will know what she wants and if it comes to ask any specifics i will.  i’ll ask if she’d like to see you though, if you feel called to come?

3 people leaving today, my niece, stepmom and Greg. leaving my main support of Tashe (sister) and my mom, plus my stepdad who’s being lovely and mostly present and quiet. julianna is extraordinary.   my brother comes later in the week for a couple days.

zelie (my partner who had been in Hawaii during these last 7 weeks) is asking me if i still want her to come back early, after the retreat is done, rather than a week later, and i can’t tell her. i’m like elizabeth right now, so in the present moment, don’ t know what i want later today let alone next week. i know i’m not the same person, i can’t give much to anyone for a while though. i need to be in here. i know you understand.

i would love to see you though. you bring me a certain comfort like no other. and i imagine for elizabeth too.
love, Lucia

7/30/12 an email to our Tucson community and my clients

I am taking a hiatus from my outer work while I focus on my family.My older daughter, Elizabeth Blue, is home under hospice care now, and she is being showered with love and in a radiant state of grace. it is heartbreaking and breathtakingly beautiful. The radiance in Elizabeth and in the room is incredible.If I stop and feel what this looks and feels like from outside, it feels overwhelmingly sad, but when I’m present in each moment it feels fine. The minute by minute process is beautiful and grace-filled, and I am truly blessed to have this time with her, and for so many of our family and friends to be close by. It does feel like she is at peace, doing whatever she needs to do to complete.

There are many (hundreds even) who are doing prayers and healing work for Elizabeth all over, and I think this combined with all the love here is helping us through this incredibly difficult passage. It does not feel like the time to go searching for miracles, but to be fully present to the miracle that is happening in each moment. I know that healing takes many forms and looks different for each of us, and I have to trust that this is exactly the healing process we need, even though it’s not our preference.

I appreciate all the heart-felt suggestions and questions, but I am spending as much time as possible being in her presence, in our heart connection, and will not be online much these days.

I will not be scheduling individual clients or classes for the time being.

love and blessings,  Lucia Maya

7/30/12 email to a friend

it feels to me like the path is being cleared/has been cleared for her to leave with grace, and my job is to assist in this as much as possible…

some friends are still making suggestions about different remedies to try, and my sense is that to get our hopes up now is too heartbreaking, and best to focus on being present with what is…i’m an eternal optimist, but my optimism is now focused on facilitating this transition as her healing process…

and of course remain open to ALL possibilities.

7/31/12 (to a friend)

oddly, as incredibly sad as i am, the one i know is already gone, and i’m grieving that loss, and the one who is here feels like she’s clearly on her own journey out, so the hope i feel is largely about the passage being peaceful and gracefilled…and just what she needs it to be.

8/1/12 another group update

Hi,
Elizabeth is doing well here at home, very restful, at peace, very quiet and in no pain. she’s on almost no medication now, eating little, drinking some (for some reason every time she drinks at all, she drinks to the bottom of the glass, like it’s just what you do…), observing, but not engaging much unless she’s engaged and will answer questions, usually with a nod yes or no. otherwise she’ll just listen.  she makes her needs known still.

She’s being very well cared for and loved. lots of family and some friends, so much that i’m playing gatekeeper to help keep the energy quiet and slow, as she seems to prefer. Or at least I do!  just trying to keep track of who’s coming and going is a lot, but mostly i’m not trying to, just letting people text when they want to come, and saying no if it’s not a good time…

Zelie is coming home tonight, which will be wonderful to have her presence and support in person, though her support has been tremendous from hawaii too.

Tashe (my sister) is amazing, doing everything from feeding E, massaging her, sleeping on the floor in the living room with her, to a project where she’s hanging beautiful fabric by the back door so everyone who enters that way will slow down and remember they’re entering into sacred space. Everyone here is contributing in their own way, and it’s beautiful how everything gets done and Elizabeth is being so loved and nurtured.

I found some of Elizabeth’s wonderful poetry on my computer, and wanted to share a couple. This first one is  from 2005, when she was just 15.  The 2nd one, “Obama” poem, I’m including the email intro she wrote then, which i love too.
love to all,  Lucia

© Lucia Maya, 2013

Poetry by Elizabeth Meagher

Seeping Back

‘I adore you,’ one moment of holding this, ‘God’ in all parts of my body

Devotion, my mysterious master

‘Don’t adore me’ in cupped hands not holding

Seeping back to the river of eternal life.

Devotion, my mysterious master

I saw the crossroads, one forever movement of light

Seeping back to the river of eternal life

Coming through the body back to the heart of center, back to the sexuality of breath.

I saw the crossroads, one forever movement of light

I felt the gift, one moment of holding forever, ‘I adore you’

Coming through the body back to the heart center, back to the sexuality of breath

This place of unknowing, eternal, unjudged, finally let be, ‘don’t adore me.’

I felt the gift, one moment of holding forever, ‘I adore you’

I am waiting for our hearts to be conjoined in the endless breath

This place of unknowing, eternal, unjudged, finally let be ‘don’t adore me’

Whisper of eternity that says I love you.

I am waiting for our hearts to be conjoined in the endless breath

Why can we not meet at the simple movement, place of undying peace and satisfaction?

Whisper of eternity that says I love you

For if we were to meet in that place there would be nothing left to live for.

Why can we not meet at the simple movement, place of undying peace and satisfaction?

‘I adore you’

For if we were to meet in that place there would be nothing left to live for

Seeping back to the river of eternal life.

© Elizabeth Meagher 9/11/05

Hello All,
I just came across this poem I wrote about a year ago when Obama was in the primaries.  It reminded me of the excitement and love I had for him then when he was still just the bud of a revolutionary idea.  It also inspired me to further appreciate him now.

Thank you for humoring my raw and unedited writing, much love to you all.
-Elizabeth

Obama

We need you.

Us, a people who have slowly descended

From the dream of our ancestors.

Us, a people fallen from grace.

We need you to be our Father

We need your gentle strength

Your wise eyes.

We need your pride and your love

We need your working hands 

Your compassionate mind

To mold our broken humanity

Back into something palpable

And whole.

We need you to remind us of our morality

Our passion that built this community — America.

You who see the best in us

You with trust and hope and unconditional love,

We need you.

We need a leader who will stand tall

among those who cower.

A man who will be brave enough not to drop bombs.

We need a new Father for our country.

One who knows the light in his daughter’s smile

Like a heartbeat.

One who sees the beauty in the shadows

In the tired and poor.

One who will lift the broken body

Of our country from her dying bed.

One who will see that she can be healed with compassion.

We do not need you for our strengths

Our weapons

Our corporations

Our wealthy.

We need you for our schools

For our Grandmothers

For our bus systems

For our foreign policy.

We need you

Standing tall

Standing proud

To pave the way for our future Hillary Clintons.

We need you for your healing tears.

And the resonation in our hearts

That our love is yours.

© Elizabeth Meagher 2008