In memory of Heather Mikayla

I’ve thought about death a lot most of my life, starting with the death of my father when I was five years old. Like everyone else, I’ve wondered what it would be like to be dead. But my granddaughter said it best when her dad asked her what she thought happened to us after we die: “No one can possibly know the answer to that,” she sagely responded. So true, and anything we say about the thereafter is but a guess.

One thing we can be certain of is that we will all die. Though some may disagree with me, death is not unfair or untimely. Death is the flip side of life. Everything that is living must die, sometimes sooner than later, but death does not discriminate. It treats us all with equality.

I am completely at peace with knowing I will die. In fact, if I die anytime between now or onward, it’s OK. I’ve had a wonderful life, beautiful family, and fabulous friends. When I die, no one should feel death is cheating me of anything. But my own death is not what troubles me. It’s having to live through the grief and pain that comes from those I care about dying.

My dear friend Heather Mikayla has died of breast cancer. I’m starkly aware this is not a problem for Heather, but it is for me, as I will miss her dearly. Heather was colorful and vibrant, creative and imaginative, loving, giving, and compassionate.

Big Basin Trail

I met Heather when I was re-exploring astrology and metaphysics. She was hugely supportive of me through my investigations, and the difficulties I was having with moving my physically and mentally ill mother down here near me. She made me laugh through my tears, helped me purge myself of unbearable guilt, and had answers to absolutely everything.

Over the years, I saw through my metaphysical experiences, saw how my brain created experiences and how my imagination misinterpreted them. Little by little, I rejected the metaphysical and astrological viewpoints,  and repositioned myself back into the world of scientific exploration. Heather and I disagreed in many ways on cosmology, but always we were respectful of each others views, yet could laugh wholeheartedly at the other without offense.

We shared an intense love of nature, of forests, and in particular Big Basin. Heather would go there to cry. She often spoke of the energy the redwoods have to purge one of painful emotions. I went there to hike, to breathe the aroma of wet pine needles, and yes, sometimes to cry.

Big Basin

When Heather told me about her breast cancer and that she would only be treating it holistically, I was afraid for her. But Heather believed in it so wholeheartedly, she almost had me convinced.  When I expressed doubts, she would tell me I just didn’t understand. She knew these methods would work, and she stuck by them. When I last met Heather for a dinner, she had lost so much weight, I felt my heart sink. At my concern, she spoke at length of healing from the inside out. She believed her methods were paying off, and soon she would be blogging about it to the world. She would be healed completely. I hoped she was right, but feared she was wrong.

Sadly, those methods didn’t work. I vacillate between outrage, grief, sadness, and knowing that death has no favorites and that we all die. Heather had lived a rich, fascinating, active life. Her heart was huge, her intentions wonderful, and her compassion for others knew no boundaries. I am grateful to have been friends with her as long as I was, to have been helped by her in many ways, and I had a few occasions to provide support and laughter for her.

The equality of death is a difficult thing to swallow, as it means as long as I’m alive, I have to suffer the loss of those I care about if they die before me. I’ve caught my mind, at times, wanting to believe in a possibility of an afterlife because it would mean Heather isn’t really gone. I see starkly how my attachments to the friendship I had with her causes my mind to try to create scenarios that would lessen my grief. I see the tricks my mind plays to try to get me out of dealing directly with this sadness I’m feeling by wanting to cling to beliefs. But I’d rather stick with the here and now, the reality of my loss, than to cling to some fabrication just so it doesn’t hurt.

Big Basin

To say a final goodbye to Heather, I went to the forest today. I remembered the many wonderful times Heather and I shared, how we made each other laugh, and here was the forest to soak up the tears. The forest is in constant change as new life emerges while other parts of it die and decay. Spongy new moss blanketed the trunks of trees, while dead leaves and pine needles carpeted the trails. Where there is birth, there is death, and in between is a lot of change.

While death may end the life we are living, death brings an end to all of our suffering. For Heather there are no more money worries, no health concerns, no bills to pay, no body in hunger or pain. While you can argue there is also no more of the good stuff too, I have looked deeply enough to see that suffering  lies beneath the enjoyments as well.

I see posts saying that Heather is with God now, or with angels, or Heather is off to her next lifetime adventure. Well, as my granddaughter said, we can’t know any of that. But I do know that Heather is no longer struggling with cancer or any of the other sufferings life can bring. She is no longer among the living.

For myself, I feel a loss. A big one. I will miss Heather dearly. I am grateful to have known her, and she lives on in my heart and my memories.