08/26/2025
Thirteen Years and My Heart
At 9:10 tonight it will have been thirteen years . . . Time is such a strange friend when it comes to love and loss. I never really know how it will knock on my door. Every year comes and goes and the scent of Georg remains. I’m not really sure how that works but I can still smell him . . . the brain holds the strangest things.
So much time has passed but there are still times when I can’t believe he’s gone. Maybe he’s returned and I’ve held him as a baby, or maybe I’ve walked past him on the street and he smiled from his stroller, and maybe he isn’t near me but we’re breathing the same air, or maybe there’s something else I haven’t considered. The fact is don’t know and I’m okay with that.
What I know is he walks with me, and he seems to be scattered all over the globe in so many beautiful ways. People email me and say they had a dream about him, they tell me they listened to one of his audios and felt like he was sitting with them, or they watched a documentary with him in it, or did a training or workshop where his name came up, or they read a book and feel so connected to him. How can that be? He’s dead, but also still so alive. At the end of the day it means he’s everywhere and that warms my heart.
People who are closest to me know that I morph this time of year as my body and mind fold into itself for comfort and ease. My heart aches in both painful and beautiful ways, my body becomes tired, and physical stillness takes over as I am guided to feel to a depth I haven’t felt before. It feels healing, creative, painful, and joy-filled all in one. I feel content to “just be” in the moment of grief as it washes through me over and over again.
Some people still tell me to find a new partner and it will be easier, while others tell me not to do that because it would be too difficult…for that person. It’s confusing being human and sometimes I just want to run and hide away with my dog, CC, and cry until it’s all over. I know life is meant to be lived and I do that as fully as I can but I also know life ends…abruptly, and the living can feel like they’re left standing on the edge of the cliff on a gale-force windy day. I feel like I’ve been there on that cliff far too often.
So, here I am today, sitting in all my rawness and being present for whatever arises. I refuse to keep myself busy because it’ll come out tomorrow or the day after or the day after that. During the past thirteen years I’ve learned that in the hardest ways I could possibly imagine and hopefully for the last time. I’ve learned that the busier I become in my body and mind the less likely I am guided by introspection based on discernment. Like eating an apple only part way we never really get to see the seeds that bring about growth. We enjoy the apple for its taste but don’t acknowledge its true nature. I think busyness is like this too. We jump from pleasure to pleasure or stimulation to stimulation without going inward to see our relationship with them and therefore never really get to the “seeds” in our life.
As Georg’s wisdom drifts through my body I recognize how much “missing” is still present and also how happy I am that I was with him when he transitioned. I wish for no one to go through loss but as loss is inevitable may it be in the presence of love. May we all be held in our final hours and may the deep inner sound guide us in life and in death.
So here is a huge thank-you to my daughter, Chandra, all my friends, family, spiritual family, and social media friends who I haven’t met in person yet (and just for the record I’d really like to hug you) Many of you have supported me in ways I can’t express well here but you know who you are and your actions in body, speech, and mind have never gone unnoticed. A huge thank you to all those people who understand me and honour my sensitivity and emotions instead of ridiculing me about them. A huge thank you to all those who walk with me on this path we call “living life” and especially those who understand “stillness” and have encouraged me along the way. Lastly, palms together to my spiritual teachers who are always there for me and often call me when they know I’m struggling.
In memory of Georg Feuerstein (May 27, 1947 – August 25, 2012)
