Journal Entry Ten- August 14, 2007 by Derek

Last Friday I had such a great day walking on the beach, feeling the warm sun on my face. So why that evening did I feel this disturbing sense that I wasn’t grieving enough? On Saturday, I found an old picture of Lin’s and fell apart. As I wept uncontrollably, I wanted to crawl into the closet and hide. Now I feared I was grieving too much. On Sunday I was able to witness my fear and change it to love.  The journey continues…

Looking back last month I can see clearly that my intuition was right in how essential it was to travel in Europe. I really needed some diversion, feeling totally exhausted from the swirling emotions that had pummelled me from all sides.  I had wondered if I needed to travel solo; the idea of a solitary figure being alone with God is visually and emotionally appealing to most of us, for sure. Of course I knew I could travel and wander alone in Europe, having done this numerous times in my peace walks, sometimes for a year at a time. But that was the old me; now there is this new me still emerging. I boldly asked Carolyn, who, with Lani had already given me so much, if she would accompany me. What followed were many conversations about support. I needed to know that if Carolyn were to come, it would be as much for her as for me. Carolyn agreed to come; expressing a similar longing to travel after all she had gone through. Now in retrospect (where my wisdom always shines) I see how perfect it all was. What a gift, when you feel such despair, when all is lost, to be held by someone you trust and feel safe with. Someone to laugh with, someone to feel afraid with; a true friend.  Every day I suggested she walk by herself, as she is an avid fast walker, and almost every day she declined. Walking has become a challenge for me in the last few years, so she waited and we walked slowly for hours each day.

What an array of memories I have from this grieving pilgrimage; too many to write about at this time.  There is one; however, I need to share right now. I danced, cried, yelled and sang along with Peter Gabriel, front and centre at an outdoor rainy concert in Amsterdam. Although he didn’t sing "Downside Up" there were moments that my world felt right side up, especially when the rain stopped and a quadruple rainbow arched over us.

I return feeling more of the ground below me, feeling my centre, that place inside that is the “I” that “I am”…and yet deep inside I understand this is temporary. There is more to grieve ahead. It will be gentler - not purging myself of memories but gently honouring and releasing them. Lin gave me an incredible gift when we spent her last months on this plane grieving together. We cried, we laughed, we got angry, we yelled out loud how unfair this all was, embraced each other, said goodbye and talked about meeting again. Hardly a day goes by when I don’t give thanks and appreciate how that experience is helping me now.

I remember a few years ago standing with Lin for the longest time on a wooden bridge in Pender Harbour mesmerized at the return of the salmon. They were going home, returning from many years at sea to spawn.  Elsi was running up and down the river bank barking excitedly, intrigued by the thrashing of these huge creatures.  In the middle of the stream dozens of fish struggled side by side, some bloodied by the journey north from the Pacific Ocean.  On the right were small calm pools where they would rest together gaining strength to continue their ancient pilgrimage back to the source, the beginning, home.  We could see how healing this time was for them in this shallow basin, yet instinctively they knew they couldn’t stay. Right now I feel I’m also resting in that shallow basin. And, I need to return to the fast stream for Lin has gone on ahead and returned home. My journey continues, and I know I still face more turbulent waters.

Spirit created our relationship and continues to do so.

In the last days of August 1995, autumn was in the air and I had just finished a storytelling trip across the States. My journey ended with a visit to one of my very favourite places: the gardens of the SRF Ashram in Encinitas, California. It was here that Paramahansa Yoganada wrote "The Autobiography of a Yogi" before he passed on.  The garden sits on the edge of a cliff looking over the Pacific Ocean. Over the years I have come here to be quiet and listen to my heart. But this day was not like other times; for some reason I couldn’t still my mind, and kept thinking of Lin. I ran eagerly to a payphone and like an excited kid blurted out, “Oh Lin, I’m here at this sacred place and I need you to come here and see this with me. Can you come right away?”  Lin laughed and jumped on the first plane. The next day we went to the gardens.

Like in most magical moments, words pale in describing the vividness of this experience.  I invite you to imagine warm ocean breezes caressing palm trees.  Imagine a lush and tranquil garden with nooks and crannies that are womb-like and welcoming. A gentle waterfall spilling out sparkling diamonds into a pond.  The pond is the sanctuary of a large group of multicoloured Koi fish. Through the dense vegetation you can see a big white temple, with meditation students emerging to perform their daily practice of silent walking. Lin and I sat on a secluded bench by the pond, mesmerised by the fish. They appeared to take time out of their deep trance to surface, look straight at our eyes and blow kisses to us.

We sat in silence, where time didn’t exist; it was as if every breath was a lifetime. I became the ocean breeze, the birds of paradise flowers, the Koi fish, the meditators and Lin. Impulsively I turned to her and whispered, "Lin, I feel so connected to everything right now. Especially you. I want to have this feeling forever….will you marry me?”  Lin smiled that famous smile and with tears falling down her cheeks said, "Yes. Will you marry me?”  By now I was trembling and crying. I don't remember uttering my reply out loud; I swear my heart and not my mouth replied, "Yes." 

August the 26th is Lin’s birthday and our tenth wedding anniversary. On August 26th I will sit on that bench again and be in that moment of oneness. I will breathe in the love that surrounds me and breathe out the fear that binds me. I will give thanks and appreciation to the creator for the gifts I continue to receive and I will scatter some of Lin’s ashes there so that her spirit might feel welcome to visit.

I walk this path alone; I walk this path with you.