Memorial Day of Spring Equinox

Dear Web,

Today is Memorial Day...I've been depressed by memories. And I am doubting that any of this is making any sort of difference because every day when it's all said and done, Phoenix is not here. No matter how I write about it, talk about it, think about it, wish and rage about it, he's gone. And I wonder, who is this re-telling to serve? And how will I know if I am really making a difference with this memorial?

And...what else is there to do? This is my act of faith, my act of healing something that feels forever torn. It's the act of love and respect for a Being who (for good or bad) never took his eyes off of me, always had my back, made me laugh in spite of myself and dutifully waited for me to return. This is for Phoenix and I. This is how I will wait for his return.

And so, I turn back to March 20th, Spring Equinox, the day following his death. There are three women who come to help dig a grave for Phoenix to return him to the Earth after my almost 18 hour vigil with him. My journal has one sentence to record that day:
"Four women from the four corners Return Phoenix to the Earth."
It was exactly that: we each sat at the edge of the grave and hand full by hand full, we broke up the dug up dirt and gently let it fall around his sweet body. It was totally silent except for the sound of earth falling. We didn't plan it ahead; it was magically natural like we already knew what needed to be done and how. There was a peace to it, even though at the time I did not feel peaceful. My hair was frayed and crazed; my eyes looked wild animal like. And I felt just like that: frayed, crazed and wild animal-ish. Yet, there I was doing something deeply peaceful for my beloved companion on Spring Equinox.

Two nights later I dreamed that I look at myself in the mirror and see myself exactly like I am after cutting my hair by his grave site the day after his burial. The skin on my face in the dream is peeling, like from a burn. When I wake up from this dream I go to actually look at myself in the mirror and notice that the skin above my upper lip is peeling. I am grateful that my dream time is reflective of reality for me. That's often been the case, but I am especially grateful for it now. It's something to count on. It reminds me that Spirit is there just on the other side. And if Spirit is there...perhaps, Phoenix is too. Though he has not come to me in a dream or in any way....yet, I tell myself. Not, yet, dear one.

So, on this Memorial Day, I remember Phoenix and his Return to the Earth. I remember my own process of transformation. I remember Spirit. And I remember that we are all connected. One way or another. I hope.

In memory,
Melissa