Moments (Misty)

I was going to write about my afterlife communications with a notorious serial killer. I thought maybe I could follow in the steps of Bailey Sarien, who is a true crime enthusiast, but from the perspective of being a psychic medium. However, that will have to wait, because I just received some very bad news. I'm literally still reeling. I found out about half an hour ago that a cousin of mine has passed away. I don't have the heart (no pun intended) to write about a man who violently took the lives of others right now. That post is for another day. 

My cousin, Misty, is the mother of a boy my youngest sons age, eleven. She passed away five days after Christmas. I literally just liked all of the colorful and splashy photos she posted (and reposted from prior years) of her holidays. Families in matching pajama's. A young cocoa skinned boy growing from toddler to little gentleman. She raised such a sweet little boy, and she should be proud of that.

I actually reached out to Misty a few days ago to let her know that I was thinking of her, and that I appreciated the content she posted (she loved facebook, posting frequently), because an older, religious Aunt had taken the time to shame something she shared. I'll assume it was the swear word that got her caught up in her feelings. That's what I liked about Misty though, the same thing I love about most people I'm usually drawn to, that piss and vinegar! The people who are a little rougher around the edges than normal, captivate me. 

Recently I had begun to sense a change in Misty though, a softening. It happens with age. We lose the desire to fight battles that don't matter. When my Aunt criticized her online, Misty simply said, "Ok", and moved on gracefully. I was the one who was lit up about it, enough so to mention it to several people and post about it on instagram. She seemed more at peace than she had in previous years, like life was starting to make sense to her. I realized lying in my bed twenty minutes ago that I could see the softening of Misty, because I can see the softness in my own hard edges now, whereas I really wasn't able to before. People without hard edge's will never understand, which is where my Aunt is really coming from. There's a lot of hurt in this family, most of it caused by those with the privilege of easier lives passing on judgement to those of us who didn't have the luxury of owning a pair of rose colored glasses, and therefore getting to play the role of a family favorite.

I painted a picture of my idea of twinflames a few years ago. Misty loved it so much she asked if I could repaint one for her. I did. She says that picture gave her hope in her moments of feeling rather the opposite. On the back I had written, "never settle". I loved painting that picture for her. I loved sending it to her. And I loved that someone saw me in that moment. That she could appreciate my heart bleeding through in red and blue acrylic paint.

We told each other that we loved each other a few days ago. This is one of the harder things to come to understand about life, before it's too late. Tomorrow is never promised. It's not a fear based belief, but a reality that we don't want to face when we feel like we haven't accomplished what we had hoped to. I am terrible about that, believing that my life is good enough as it stands. That I don't have to go out into the world and become a household name in order to matter. 

Today is good enough. What you did, or didn't do, doesn't sum up your worth. Who you are, and the person people remember when you die, often isn't the version of yourself that you would go around promoting in death, My favorite video of my cousin is a drunken video of her eating cookies she'd taken from a buffet. Every time I think of that clip I laugh, and something inside of me feels connected, rather than alone. It's those small moments of so called imperfection, or real people doing real stuff, that causes us to cling to a memory. A memory that made us feel less alone, even if if for a moment in time. 

I don't know Misty feels about the life she led. My guess is, that like many of us, she had moments she would take back, but more that she wouldn't dream of undoing. I look at her life and I see a fullness, a richness in life, and I hope that she sensed that too. We don't have forever to master who we will be, or to become the best version of a human being that we idealize. We have moments. We have thirty seconds in a text message. We have a minute and half in a phone conversation. We have a short paragraph in the comment section. We have an hour in a coffee shop. We have moments that become the grander version of what we end up calling our lives when it's over. And that's all we are promised. We are promised nothing but moments. 

This woman's facebook profile is already being filled with grief stricken "good byes", and heartfelt messages bound for Heaven. She wasn't a lonely person. She filled every moment she had with that big personality, that outrageous sense of humor, and the grace that followed when somebody didn't understand the beauty in her sharper edges. And I am proud of her for that.

Rest in peace, beautiful. Heaven is thousand times richer tonight with you there. (black heart emoji).