I mentioned earlier that things were happening that were needing my attention. My brother Paul died yesterday and that was what had been tugging at my heartstrings.
In early March, everyone connected with his care was clear that Paul was dying. Even Paul awoke one day and said “I’m dying.” (1)
At first, when I heard that, I said to myself, I’ve edited a book on life after death. I’ve been outside my body. I’ll see him after Ascension and that may not be too far away. I feel nothing but gratitude and love towards my brother. I’m complete with him in every way.
Translation: It was not real for me at that point.
And then I spoke with him on Facetime. He looked so terrible I got off the phone shocked. It suddenly became very real.
Within days I began going through what I believed at the time was Kubler-Ross’s five stages of grieving.
I was in denial. I was railing at the heavens: Don’t take my brother! I was getting ready to plead and bargain.
But there was no escape. Knowing about life after death and having been outside one’s body do help mitigate the sorrow. I was able to “be with” [remain aware during] the process, rather than “succumb” to it. But I had to go through it just the same.
On the other side of the storm, during which I experienced deep loss and moroseness, I found myself exactly where I’d left off. I was again in deep gratitude to Paul – and everyone else who played a part in it – that he was my brother in this lifetime. I’m eternally grateful to Fran, Tasha, Simon, and Bill for taking care of him.
He was more my father than my Father.
He was my protector and anchor.
I was his lieutenant. I served as room manager at some of his seminars. That’s how closely we worked together when we did. And how reliably easy it was to work with him.
He exemplified altruism, compassion, responsibility, and gentleness.
He was one of the everyday buddhas who just did and didn’t talk much about it.
I now see that he trained me to work with Archangel Michael.
There’s no sense going through his accomplishments. He wasn’t into that kind of thing.
I will say one thing that represents them though: On his and Frani’s 35th wedding anniversary, his community of friends reserved an entire floor of a hotel to fête them. Ballroom and private suite. If that wasn’t a “gettable” testimonial to the both of them, it’d take a marching band and a herd of elephants to beat it.
OK, OK, a second story. When I moved back to Vancouver from Ottawa in 1970 to do a Ph.D. in history, I was broke and hungry. I had an apartment but my teaching-assistant’s checks from the university hadn’t started yet.
Paul called me and I got teary. He said “We’ll be right over.”
This was a Sunday night and no supermarkets were open. No matter. He and Frani went to the nearest corner store, which charges outrageous prices, and bought three bags of groceries for me. What he spent on them would be the equivalent today of around $250. What happened that day impacted my soul. (2)
And the both of them were always like that. I learned from them.
You gave me good training, Paul, and I will miss you. Ascension is not far off and we can be together again.
I know you can hear me. I send you all my love and gratitude for having blessed me by being my brother.
Footnotes
(1) From plaque deposits in the brain.
(2) I have to tell you that even our Mother would not rescue me financially. She once came upon me making my grad-student dinner, which was a potato boiled in oxtail soup. That’s all I had money for. She laughed and left. She wasn’t going to rescue me. She wanted her chickies to fly.