Some messages on loss

Yesterday my sister asked me about my mom, and if she is preparing herself. I told her, "I sure hope so."

I need to be able to make my peace and let my dad go. I don't want to, I keep holding on. We are so lucky he is such a fighter, we have so many opportunities to talk to him. We all need to prepare and have a heartfelt talk with him. I think he needs that, and I think that is why he is holding on. We need to free him from our chains of attachment. 

Listing some messages that are helping me come to terms with death not being a "loss" but more of a "release."

I really don't want this. I can talk to my Dad and tell him how special he is and how much of him has shaped me and my life. 

I don't want to do this, but I have to do this. Not just for me, but for him too. Anyone reading this that knows him, please take the time to talk with him while we still can. I can't imagine how he feels, but I feel something and like my Mom said months back in tears "what he really needs now is love."

I've been so selfish and so self centered for too long. When I ask him to forgive me for this, I hope he will. 

Found some good reads and typed up a few below, and will probably continue processing all this and posting.. I hope this helps someone too

"Goodbyes are only for those who only love with their eyes. Because for those who love with their heart and soul, there is no separation." -Rumi

"The trouble is, you think you have time." -Buddha 

"Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more change to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever? If so, then you know you can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back." -Mitch Albom For One More Day 

"In three words I can sump up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." -Robert Frost

And this Rumi poem Don't Grieve

Don’t Grieve

 By, Rumi

(1207-1273)

Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round

in another form. The child weaned from mother’s milk

now drinks wine and honey mixed.

God’s joy moves from unmarked box to unmarked box,

from cell to cell.  As rainwater, down into flowerbed.

As roses, up from ground.

Now it looks like a plate of rice and fish,

now a cliff covered with vines,

now a horse being saddled.

It hides within these,

Til one day it cracks them open.

Part of the self leaves the body when we sleep

and changes shape. You might say, “Last night

I was a cypress tree, a small bed of tulips,

a field of grapevines.” Then the phantasm goes away.

You’re back in the room.

I don’t want to make anyone fearful.

Hear what’s behind what I say.

Ta dum dum, taa dum, ta ta dum.

There’s the light gold of wheat in the sun

and the gold of bread made from that wheat.

I have neither. I’m only talking about them,

As a town in the desert looks up

at stars on a clear night