The Funeral Service

Dear Heavenly Father,

The sub-zero temperatures have been accompanied by clear skies. I’ve been watching the waxing moon move in its clockwise path every afternoon. Today, it was nowhere to be found.

To leave what is dead is to let old identities and false beliefs die—things that are no longer serving me. I’ve seen myself as the orchid for many years, who I believed the flower was supposed to be, and what I believed the flower was supposed to do. I told the story of me around that flower, but the orchid is not Emily.

It took me a while to get a blaze going in the fire pit, which I had to dig out of the cold snow. I sat outside as the day came to a close and put my feet next to the flames to keep them warm. I set the flower on the stones that form an edge around the pit.

I’ve cared for this particular flower for 15 years—a white Phalaenopsis orchid. My husband gave it to me for Mother’s Day just before I delivered our third and last child. I read its eulogy to honor the identity it did serve and the truths it did teach me. I then placed the flower in the fire. A sadness pulled down on my heart as I watched it being consumed.

The stars had come out with the growing darkness. One caught my gaze. It was moving across the sky in a quick, straight path. It traveled a good distance, struggling to stay alive until it finally gave its last flicker directly over the peak of the mountain, where the Dog Star shone brightest.

Father, I now know that I am the mountain. At least I’ve climbed this proverbial mountain. I now stand on top.

I'd asked that you attend your reverence at my funeral. You were there right on time. You’re always there right on time. In fact, when we commune together, it seems as though time bends in on itself—that heaven and earth converge. I plan my ritual that then turns out to be your plan all along.

The funeral was over. A new identity was born. But the moon was still nowhere to be seen. I looked around and asked you aloud, “Where is my Mother?” Just then, a speck of light appeared from behind an adjacent mountain. I watched Her full reflection rise. Her love, like the moon’s gravity, pulls me towards Her. She puts my soul to rest.

I don’t know what’s next for the mountain, but Father, I have this craving for purpose. I don’t know if it’s led me or haunted me, but I was born chasing it. I’ll take the chase one day at a time.

Your Daughter Sincerely,

Emily

Amen.

The Dog Star at the top of Pioneer Peak

Full moon rising