The Plan

The Plan

Dear Ian,

Here is a new thought...... 

Before this life;

Before you were my son and I was your Mom,

 In another place in time.

We planned this chapter of our story. 

Stood together and imagined all of this into being.

 Set our intent together toward a hard task with love and so much devotion to God. 

I lean into the ease of it,  

  Accept the missing puzzle piece.

Of Love expanding.....

I like the sound of the word "Expansion", it feels good my mouth. I like the visual of you expanding with each breath. All the lovely attributes of the person I knew as Ian. I like the idea of your humor, your generosity, fearlessness and compassion....reckless curiosity and obnoxious honesty; placed within you for a purpose and destined to grow. I can imagine you now expanding like our universe after the Big Bang. 

What an ironic thought 

Because you, my beautiful boy endured a

 Big Bang here on earth.

This is not to be flip or creepy, or dark about the nature of your leaving. 

I proclaim that great creations begin with sudden upheaval;

violent transformation,

A turning over of the apple cart......

Less a gentle nudge  than with a deep breath and a 

Painful

Unsettling

Seemingly Chaotic birth

It is an interesting and ancient notion that God allows us to craft our own stories...that He or She or We are all fired by free will, the very blood of a living God, coursing and pumping in unpredictably predictable ways.

Your story is forever changed on the other side of leaving us, Biggun. I see the truth and the power and meaning of it. I think I can begin to sense some of our plan, especially how your outrageous and unexpected act might be generative rather than destructive; a dynamic and planned event that means something. Was worth something. Was in fact, a beginning, not an ending.

In my insides

I do know you have taken me along with you. 

I gripped you as we went to warp speed

Just enough time to grab a breath as we plunged into the deep.

My insides know, too, that all this was just as purposeful as a forest fire, whose acrid char brings the popping and sprouting of pine cones. Brings forth life and is as ruefully necessary as a whale, beached and gone, feeding all manner of bird and beast and bug.

It is a more honest accounting of how this all works than fairy tales about rainbows and butterflies. These too are  beauty born of fracture and division.

So here I am, Ian, working the rubrics cube of my own remaining plan and imagining how to do this....

Trying to remember how we are knitted together.  Just let the momentum of the Big Bang move me until I find my next natural point of orbit in the service of God . Drift like the stars that float in the aftermath until laws of physics find them again. 

Agree not to judge myself or others so much,

Be kind when I can manage to be, 

Accept all of this mess softly

See beautiful things

Pet my dogs and save insects.

Kiss Hudson's head

Bow before the littlest joys

Which are expanding the true nature of God

I would never want to let you down, so I promise to try. 

And I am looking for other travelers like us.

 Those who come here determined to leap instead of crawl; those who write epics, not cliff notes....symphonies not jingles; Those who love large,

Imagine big 

Explode

Trail blaze....

Like freaking Lewis and Clark

and Captain Picard

                                                                                                     Love,

                                                                                                                     Momma