Death and Beauty

Last Thursday I checked my voice mail to discover that a beautiful being, Milissa Ann, had died a couple of days earlier. I met Milissa in Wimberley not too long after we moved to Texas, and she was part of our community for several years. After she moved to Santa Fe we lost touch, though I would see her occasionally when she came through town.

When I heard the news of Milissa's passing I realized that I had been thinking about her a few days earlier, wondering how she was doing. Apparently many people who knew Milissa had the same experience; none of us knew she was in the hospital, but despite the distance we felt her through the web of our connection.

And now I find myself thinking a lot about a woman that touched many lives, but that I hadn't seen in over a year and had no physical connection with. In her death I feel her strongly. While her family and friends grieve, she feels like pure light, a twinkle moving freely, released of her body's struggle. 

Saturday night was her memorial service in San Antonio. Her close friends Kim, Arielle, and Trisha attended, while a group of us danced barefoot at Toci. Milissa loved to dance, so it seemed fitting to bring her into our evening. I went to her Facebook account and we kept her photos up on my computer screen, next to a picture of Rachel, another young, vibrant woman in our community who also died suddenly (in January in a car accident.) We lit a candle for them both, and I giggled at one point to look up from my dancing to see Milissa and Rachel's photos hanging out together with a mango margarita in front of them. Perfect.

At the memorial service someone read this poem:

I'd like the memory of me

to be a happy one,

I'd like to leave an afterglow

of smiles when day is gone.

I'd like to leave an echo

whispering softly down the ways,

Of happy times, and laughing times,

and bright and sunny days.

I'd like the tears of those who grieve

to dry before the sun,

Of happy memories that I

leave when life is done.

Milissa, you have left many bright memories in our hearts, and a reminder to choose to love love love as fully as we can, knowing that our time here is precious.

Here is a Facebook post from Kevin Anthony Flores, that again shows how we are all connected in this web of life and death, and that while the physical form is fleeting, love is eternal.

... In my minds eye I saw the beautiful face of a good friend, beautiful smile of an angel, shining black hair cropped short to frame her face like the petals of a rose… And her eyes!  Big deep brown glistening eyes that seemed to caress my entire being.  She seemed to be saying hello and goodbye all at once — all at once.  My mind slipped back in time as memories superimposed themselves over her face; our first meeting and the beautiful feeling of knowing that we had always 'known' each other, the camaraderie of a sister found, siblings of Spirit wrought in infinity, such a beautiful feeling.  That day that we met we shared intimate stories about ourselves, dear ideas and thoughts about life and death, and the things that dreams are made of.   I gave her a ring; a silver ring with a mexican fire opal set in a swirling base and told her that if she ever needed me or just wanted to feel known, and loved, that all she had to do was hold it and think of me.

The memory dissipated and all that I was left with was the beautiful face, smiling, the eyes radiating hope and gentle passion for life in all its expressions, even the expression of pain, sadness and yes, even death.  I'll never forget those eyes.  And in those few moments of connection I felt good, I felt happy.  I felt as though she had said hello and goodbye all at once but also to say: '"never stop, keep on loving, and keep on dreaming.'"

And I opened my eyes and realized yet again, in a very definitive and decisive way, that I was dreaming awake.

I came home that evening to find a message waiting for me to inform me that a very good friend of mine had died.  Her journey in life was challenging, yet she was always smiling for me, she never complained about her journey, only recounted the facts and the things she was thinking about them, I do not doubt that she was sometimes sad, or angry or in pain, I do not dishonor her humanity, yet she always rose above it, usually with a gentle hug and a smile.  And even though it saddens my heart  that I may never again be able to receive a hug from her, or hear her sweet voice, I smile.  I smile in the memory of the knowledge she shared with me, to smile, always to smile even in the face of humanity's greatest challenge; physical death.  I know that she is dancing with stars at this very moment!

Her name was Milissa Ann and it was her face that I experienced on the rocks at the Giant's Causeway that afternoon.

Blessings to you, Milissa.

I just realized: the last photo below I took in Taos on the day Milissa died. It was the most beautiful, clear, vibrant rainbow I've ever seen.... Now I know why!