Marking an Anniversary

Yesterday marked the seventh anniversary of my eldest son, Karl’s, very sudden and unexpected death. He drowned alone in a hot spring in the No-Man’s-Land of the California desert on the west side of the Chocolate Mountains. He was 30 years old.

I awakened yesterday to text messages from several amazing friends and a handful of family members, each reaching out and assuring me via electronic hugs and tender words that he is remembered. That Karl existed. That he mattered.

Half an hour later I read these kind wishes out loud as my husband Karl and I sipped coffee and looked at each other across the living room, sunlight refracting through cut-glass crystal ornaments hanging in our windows casting rainbow dogs throughout the room. Magic amid sorrow.

Yearning to Honor His Life

“How can we honor Karl’s life?” I asked his father, my husband of 38 years. The answer flashed in my awareness before the final word of my question made its way across the room.

“I don’t know?” his furrowed brow indicating he didn’t want to hazard a guess.

“Yeah, you do. We both do.” I searched his face, my eyes locking with his, knowing he, too, knew instantly. In that moment. As soon as I’d voiced the question.

“Our art?” he asked, doubt dusting the edges of his response.

“Yes,” I affirmed, my heart beating just a little bit faster because he really did know it, too. “Your painting. My writing.”

We just sat there. Looking at each other. “Creation. Creativity. It’s what he was all about. It’s what LIFE is all about,” I added. “And we need to do it without any regard for its ‘worth’ to others. We just need to do it.”

Minutes later, we picked our Medicine Cards^© for the day, finished our coffee, and moved forward, silently contemplating what exactly this might mean for each of us.

1111 Devotion – An Act of Power

For me, the cards I chose reinforced the answer to my question. Indeed, they added a specificity that, along with other synchronous indicators I’d encountered within the past 12 days (but only put together yesterday afternoon), resulted in the blog post you are reading right now. My first blog post in 11 months.

Almost always, I choose cards each morning with Karl, over coffee, silently asking, “How can I be of highest service to my self today?” How I came to realize the importance of this question (and how unselfish it actually is, in spite of how it sounds) is perhaps something I’ll address another day. But yesterday, my question was different. It was, “How can I be of greatest service to Karl’s memory?”

I chose Dolphin reversed with Jaguar underneath.

As I will explain, this led me to realize that I am being called to engage in an Act of Power: an act of Devotion, if you will. According to the World Book Dictionary, a definition of devotion is “…3. The act of devoting or setting apart to a sacred use or purpose; solemn dedication; consecration.” Mmm, yes. That feels right.

This blog will be my visible devotion to my son’s memory. My Act of Power. For the next 1111 days, I will create a post. Some may only be a sentence long, for that may be all I can muster. Some may, and let’s face it, almost certainly will, be much longer. The topics may wander all over the map; there is no consistent theme to these future posts, at least from my perspective at this moment, at the outset of this journey. And considering that these posts will take me – us, if you join me – to November 26^th, 2021, I probably cannot even imagine the topics that will arise for me to discuss.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I am daunted by the discipline this will take.

But I will listen to the message. I will engage in this act of devotion to my son’s memory. And so, I begin.