crisis of faith? not so much… but lori really is a prankster
If it seems like I’m a firm believer in life after death, it’s because I am.
One thing I learned immediately after Lori’s passing was that if you don’t have a strong belief system in place (spiritual, material, or otherwise,) coming to terms with the death of your spouse is going to seem nearly impossible.
It certainly seemed that way to me.
I was raised basically without religion, and at the age of 16 became intrigued by the major Eastern religions––Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism. After flirting with Zen in my early 20s, and then throwing myself headlong into Mahayana Buddhism in my late 20s, I basically found my way back to the Tao when Lori was diagnosed with cancer in 2002.
While this may seem a rather circuitous jumble of religious beliefs, anyone with real experience applying these belief systems will be able to comprehend how easy it is for one system to lead you squarely to another.
In a way, they are all forms of the same basic belief.
So back to my story…
When you become widowed, you quickly find yourself needing to have some sort of opinion on what happens after death––
Does the body simply die, along with all its memories, personality, and uniqueness? The whole thing being swallowed up by the void?
Is there a Heaven & Hell as foretold in the Bible? One full of puffy clouds, the other infested with demons and stinking gases?
Do we reincarnate back on the Earth, assuming a higher or lesser life form based on our karma?
Or do we simply shed our physical body and assume our place in the hereafter as a perfect soul, with personality and memories intact––catching up with loved ones we’ve lost in the past, living very substantive lives (perhaps not so different than the ones we live here,) and awaiting the time we can be with ALL of our loved ones again.
At the risk of being labeled gullible, naive, or delusional due to grief, option #4 is the one I actually and truly believe in…
My belief in a conscious, self-actualized afterlife is based not only on the wisdom of numerous ancient religions, but on modern quantum physics, and most recently, the experience of the last six weeks, during which time I, and at least one of my family members, have had more direct “contact” with Lori than any of us would have ever imagined possible beforehand.
In the last three weeks in particular, the unexplained has become the norm around my little house.
Haunted? no… let’s just say that Lori visits us a lot… pretty much on a daily basis. The list of occurrences is growing long and unexplainable, but I’ll give you a little tidbit from last night.
If you’ve been following the Lori Miller Memorial Project that I’ve been posting daily over on Lori’s blog, you will know that yesterday I wrote about my wife’s delicious Potato & Chorizo Enchiladas.
I originally picked that topic because it seemed like an easy one––see, when sifting through the memories of your late wife, you have to do a bit of a balancing act; some days you just feel that you can handle the pain of “the big ones,” you know––the wedding day, the first kiss––and on other days you want to take it easy and reminisce about something a bit more light-hearted, like food!
Little did I know that the innocent little post I was working on would turn out to be an Atom Bomb in disguise.
Thinking about Lori’s amazing Potato & Chorizo Enchiladas quickly gave way to remembering the first time she made them for me, which was back when we had first started dating, and everything was magical.
No cancer. No chemo. No pain or fear.
Just lots of love, and the almost palpable feeling of all the great times to come.
It pushed me over the fucking edge.
I finished the post and then pretty much broke into a weeping sob that must have lasted 45 minutes. I cursed God, and punched the passenger’s seat (yep, now I was driving home!) and swore at the moron drivers around me.
I also told Lori I really, really, really needed her to stay with me for the rest of the evening. I needed to feel her presence in any way I could, so I’d know that she was alright.
Well, the evening passed, and I calmed down, but I still ended up crying myself to sleep––and then it happened…
At some point in the wee hours of the night I woke up from a very restful sleep to discover that my bedroom was now permeated with the aroma of potatoes and onions frying in a skillet.
I sniffed at the air, sat up, and looked around.
The dogs were asleep, and the house was quiet. There was no light in the sky.
I walked into the bathroom and looked out the window just to make sure my neighbor’s kitchen light wasn’t on (you never know, I wouldn’t put it past her to be cooking breakfast at 2:am.)
I poked my head out the bedroom door to see if I could still smell the potatoes, but the living room just smelled like a living room.
I crawled back into bed with a smile on my face, absolutely enveloped by that wonderful smell, and knew that Lori had indeed stayed with me all night. I slept like a baby.
Amazingly (and unbelievably, some of you might add,) in the morning, before I could even tell my mother about the smell of food in my room, she sat down on the side of my bed (she’s been sleeping on my couch for the last few weeks,) and told me with more than a few tears in her eyes, about how she’d spent the entire night listening to a cabinet open and close quietly somewhere in our house.
She’d even called out “Lori, is there a cabinet you want me to open? Is there something you want me to find?”
But there was never any answer… just the mouth-watering smell of potatoes and onions hovering in my room and easing me softly to sleep.
December 11th, 2007 at 1:18 pm
Cary,
I tried to leave a comment on Lori’s site but could not get it to work.
I was a regular reader of Lori’s blog. I loved her spunk. I felt we had much in common.
I was also diagnosed with cancer on my bday (31st/breast cancer). I found Lori’s site and left her a few messages back when she first started her webpage- i thought it was so crazy to meet someone else dx on their bday!
I also have a great relationship with my husband! we are best friends. I was diagnosed with cancer two weeks after I moved in with him - it was such an amazing time and then the cancer diagnosis totally ruined that exciting time in our lives.
It sucked, but I realized it was a good thing since I had him as support there everyday (wouldn’t have been the case since we lived two hours away from each other before the move.)
Its so interesting that you said writing about food Lori cooked would be less of a big memory to handle writing about - then -bam, you get blindsided.
I guess as they say ..the little things matter most.. is true. the everyday things we don’t realize how much we will miss.
I appreciate you writing and sharing about Lori and about what you are going through right now.
I look forward to reading more about Lori!
Kristi Collins
December 11th, 2007 at 1:39 pm
i’m so happy i checked for a post just now.
what a warm feeling comes over me upon reading this.
and what (!) an incredible experience.
i just keep saying “unbelievable.”
i can’t think of a better way for her to have comforted you.
and your mom with the sound of cabinets?
inconceivable!
December 11th, 2007 at 2:11 pm
Cary–
I have never commented before, but I feel particularly compelled to today. I read Lori’s story for a long time (also as a passive observer) and have been following your journey closely during these last few weeks. I am married right now to my everything, and I can’t even imagine what I would do if I were in your position…I would be destroyed. Your honesty, your fear, your strength, your courage–the raw emotion that you show–is wonderfully human. Thank you so much for sharing with us what you are going through. I know that in the future, if something like this were to happen to me, I would be so much better off because I had read your words.
I know that I’ve never lost a spouse, but four and a half years ago my father died very suddenly. I was 20 years old and he and I had always had a contentious relationship, up until maybe the last 6 months before he died. The moment I learned that he was dead, and the aftermath, changed my life forever. I will never again be the same person; part of my soul is missing. You are so right that it suddenly becomes much clearer what we believe as far as the afterlife goes when you lose someone like that; I experienced something extremely similar. The grief, the anger, the resentment, the devastation, the fear, the hopelessness–I felt it all. And oh, the crying. It was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I dreamed about him being alive all the time; I saw him everywhere I went; the bottom dropped out from my life, and for a time, I was directionless, lost at sea.
But there have been several “silver linings” — I hate to call it that, since it required the death of my father, my DAD. You know? But it’s true. Because my father left me money when he died, I was able to put myself through college. And furthermore, in the depths of my grief I discovered so much about myself–about who I was, and about who I most certainly was NOT, after all–and at the same time met my future husband. None of these things would have happened if not for the terrible occurrence of losing my father. I am not saying this to make you feel like yay, it’s a great thing! — and four and a half years later it is still really hard. I imagine that it’s much harder when it’s a spouse, as parents are “supposed” to die before you (just not when you’re 20!). But, I STRONGLY believe that everything happens for a reason–even a really fucked up reason. Lori is truly feeling better now than she has in years; and somewhere, my dad is a happy person, unlike his earthly form.
I hope some of this made sense. I just needed to reach out–to say something–because even though our experiences are different, in certain ways I relate so very much.
Take care,
Amber
December 11th, 2007 at 3:01 pm
Amber, thank you so much for your kind words… I am sure that losing your father at such a young age must be devastating, and going through my loss right now, I can imagine how it felt.
I take no offense at all at looking for a silver lining.
In fact, like you, I believe there is a purpose in ALL that we experience on this earth, good and bad, and that just as Lori had lessons to learn via the process she had to go through, so too do I have lessons to learn.
I can hazard a guess at what some of Lori’s lessons may have been (for instance, I believe her disease helped her to learn that she truly was worthy of ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD!) but I can’t even begin to guess at what mine will be.
I have a sneaky feeling one of my lessons is about impermanence… I guess I’ll find out for sure when I join Lori (and many of my other loved ones,) in the hereafter.
Thanks again,
C.
December 11th, 2007 at 3:52 pm
Good post Cary! This morning, I wept all the way home and then some. The evening was so puzzling to me. As we’ve discussed in the week before her passing, Lori spent a lot of time organizing all her things with great purpose. I was concerned as I watched her sit down in the closet to go through boxes of this and that. I was worried about her. I wanted her to conserve her energy,”let me find it for you” I’d say. I believe she wanted me to know where her special keepsakes were hidden. “These are from our wedding”, she’d say. “Isn’t this pretty? It was my first, Cary gave it to me”. In the final hours she continually told me that she was really going to need my help. I’ve since wonder if I helped her as she asked me to. Did I do what I said I’d do when I wasn’t really sure what she meant? Perhaps there’s something in a cabinet that she wanted me to find or keep safe. Whatever the reason I know she was busy opening cabinets last night. All through the night.
Each of the visits I’ve witnessed have caught me totally off guard but each has been very real. There’s no question in my mind that Lori’s keeping close watch over us and the doggies too! Perhaps she’s playing some pranks on us as well. Honestly, there just hasn’t been a good explanation for any of the things that have happened. See you tonight! You too Sweet Lori!
Love,
Mom
December 11th, 2007 at 4:26 pm
Excellent post. I, too, am a believer that we’re continually visited by loved ones who have died. I gave the parents of a friend of mine a beautiful windchime the Christmas that their son died and a few weeks later, I was staying at their house overnight while they were out of town and lo and behold, the chime started going absolutely crazy on the front porch, even though nothing else was stirring. I walked out front and the chimes on the front porch ceased immediately as the ones on the back porch started jingling merrily. Of course it was my friend. No doubt about it. He was also a prankster, happily making all of his friends fools in his practical jokes. This has also continued. I was traveling earlier this year and decided to go to Prague which was his favourite city - and self-claimed spiritual home. Each morning, just seconds before my alarm was set to go off, the slats of the bed I was sleeping in would fall and I’d be unceremoniously dumped butt first on the floor.
It’s really a great feeling to know they’re still here, isn’t it?
December 12th, 2007 at 1:37 am
i was going to save this story for when i saw you next, but for some reason i feel like typing it out, since it is so vivid right now, and i can’t sleep.
i was staying with my mom for a while after steve left us.
one evening, i was on the computer in my mom’s bedroom, and i hear steve’s cell phone ring in the kitchen. my mom was in the kitchen talking to a friend, so i figured she would answer. she couldn’t quite find it, so after a couple rings i ran in to help her. when she found it, she looked to see who it was really quickly.
the caller id listed my name.
she looked at me, and asked me if i was calling, i said no, and as she answered the phone it became too late, the call was missed. no voice message.
my cell phone was nowhere near me that evening. when i checked it , there was no outgoing call to steve’s phone. because there were other interesting energies flowing through our house around that time (for example, my mom had the same light in her bedroom burn out half a dozen times in one month), we chalked it up to another steve communication. i still don’t know what it meant, but i like to think that he wanted me to know i was doing a good job being there for my mom.
he’s here. he’s there. he’s everywhere. and for that i am grateful.
cary, alice, sweet dreams.
lori, you too, you clever one.
December 12th, 2007 at 6:22 am
What a wonderful story.
December 12th, 2007 at 10:27 am
You wrote about Lori sightings . . . Well I see my dad all over the place! Sometimes when the phone rings, I think, wouldn’t it be cool if he were on the line. I have so much to tell him, and to thank him for.
You mentioned a few posts ago that Lori died unexpectedly. I really felt that too. I thought her disorientation was from the radiation, and that after that was over, she’d get back to her good ol’ self. I was really stunned when you phoned me. If I had realized that she was leaving in the morning, I would have told her how much I admired her, and was inspired by her cheerful Warrior spirit. How much I loved her.
It got me to thinking how grateful I was for her time in the hospital 2 weeks earlier, as heart-wrenching as it was, repeatedly. It’s like she got to throw a little party for herself! So many people came to see her, she asked to see her grandma, and cousins and aunties. She held court, she was her upbeat, thoughtful, sweet self. Blessings can be found in the most unlikely places.
I miss her so much.
Flo
December 12th, 2007 at 4:11 pm
I’ve never been able to fully place how I feel about what happens after death. I think it’s uncertainty and residual learning from early in life. I grew up Southern Baptist, so I got the whole ‘lake of fire’ upbringing.
In college, I started to break away from Christianity. Then, a year before I graduated college, I was involved in a car accident in which my head bowed out the windshield. I lost consciousness several times. My deceased paternal grandma came to me in a warm summery green field with flowers, and we walked around. It was slow, dreamy, no words but we communicated.
After that experience, my whole view of the world changed in many ways. It took many months to heal, but spiritually, I changed right away. I began to explore world beliefs and religions. I came away from my experience with a strong belief in reincarnation. I sought out books on Near Death Experience and on reincarnation. In the course of all my searching, I found Tibetan Buddhism to be more closely aligned with how I now felt than anything else I’d studied.
Some people read the Christian Bible every year (like my Ma does). I read The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, by Sogyal Rinpoche, every year since 1995.
Going back to the summerlands with my grandma - there’d been flowers. This is interesting because when my grandma died, my Ma suddenly smelled fragrant flowers - the kind grandma loved - all over the house. She says this lasted for over an hour.
I believe our loved ones still visit and still look after us. And yet I believe in reincarnation. That said, I think reincarnation doesn’t always happen overnight. I guess I believe that what is weeks or years or eons to us is only a blink of an eye to a Soul before they come back into the world for another round. This is also why I believe in Astrology - I consider this to be the proverbial book that one creates for their Self before re-entering the world. Like we choose our path ahead of time. It’s all for a purpose, a reason, that we alone dictate for our Self. And once incarnated, the hardest part is trying not to forget why we’re here and what we need to learn and teach this time around, as grueling as circumstances may be.
In that light, it allows me continual learning and growth as I grapple with Stage III Endometriosis, and also with the memory problems associated with the car accident I was in, and the fact that said accident led me to this spiritual path I am now on.
This is RIGHT for me.
How you believe is RIGHT for you. Do not chalk it up to being gullible, naive, or delusional. This is yours. It is valid.
December 12th, 2007 at 4:37 pm
Zept, thank you for your wonderful comment. I actually believe in reincarnation as well, but I believe it is more than likely a choice that we make in the afterlife–whether we will choose to take on the struggle that is “life,” or simply choose to remain a spirit.
Either way, I expect that without a notion of *time* in the sense that we experience it here, our loved ones who have passed may well take eons before they choose to reincarnate on the earth.
Your NDE sounds very similar to my OBE.
December 16th, 2007 at 8:14 am
Cary–
That`s just a kick ass story there.If ya ever want to head to Kyushu,Japan and look at volcanos ya got a free space with me and the family.I`ll take ya out and ya can pick melons in the family farm.People might look at ya weird but doing something different makes me feel good.I also have a cheap shami sen ya could try to jam on it`s only 3 strings but it`s a tad hard.Shoo Chu,Shami sen and a cool watermelon waiting for ya.
Gambatte–Jay