At my own funeral

The person can’t experience this level of pain or disturbance unless it dies while the body is still alive.

As the imaginary life of Suzanne was being mourned, there was a wish that arose…

I wish I had been loved a bit more, less neglected, less of a push-over, less taken advantage of… I wish my parents had raised me differently… given me the emotional support I needed. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so abused, so lost, so unhappy. I wouldn’t have gone on this long path of seeking for salvation… seeking for truth… seeking for God… seeking for my own absence. Why was it so difficult for me to just enjoy being alive, even when things were seemingly okay? Maybe if I was just a healthier person, then I wouldn’t have had to die.

I was able to see the ‘truth’ of my whole life. How it actually was and how truly difficult it was for me. I suffered so much, I was desperate for an out.

I truly saw the deep suffering of my parents, of everyone… the amount of pain and burden that the person holds is immense… but they won’t see the full extent of it until they die.

It felt like I was alive and at my own funeral.

But I was the only one mourning my loss because no one else knew what was going on. Except for one companion that has grown so dear to me… who was mourning his own death at the same time.

My parents, my friends, no-one knew how devastated I felt.

And all of that is okay now. It was even okay while it was apparently happening.

There was still a raw beauty to it all…

And now how it’s seen is that I’m so happy that Suzanne died. Not because she was horrible or anything. It’s because I can really see that the person never had an out. Suzanne would have never been happy. She could have never been this peaceful. It’s only with the absence of her was the peace that already was revealed.

I love Suzanne. But good riddance. And I say that from the most neutral place.

And she never really died… she was never really real… never really there. But she felt god-damn real.

I see my childhood and upbringing as very neutral now. It’s just what seemed to unfold. It was beautiful in its own right. It was perfect. It didn’t feel like perfection at the time but that too is absolute perfection.

Even saying, ‘It couldn’t have been any other way’ doesn’t make sense anymore, it becomes irrelevant. That’s just another invisible handle bar.

All there is is nothing… and everything. Total free-fall.

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