Bones And Stones

I always talk to my friend Suzie when I am feeling strong emotions; anger, disappointment, sadness, love, joy, I share them all with her.
She never lets me down and is always there to listen to me, just as true in death as in life.
Suzie died a painful death from cancer 3 years ago.
My best friend felt really and unusually tired one day, and 5 weeks later she was gone.

Prior to my friend becoming ill, her and I would go for long walks every couple of weeks... and when I say long walks, I mean 3 1/2 to 4 hours at times, meandering the hills that surrounded her hometown (one of the advantages to living in Upstate NY).
We would barely be able to move after, but, man was it a great feeling!
We used to call them our therapy sessions because we would talk about anything and everything, from men and relationships, to our childhood memories, to our children, the Universe and Manifestation, the beauty of life, and death.

One of the last walks we took together before she became ill, led us to an old graveyard up on the hill behind her house. It wasn't a newer one with perfectly manicured flat land and plots adorned with modern grave markers, it was old and built on a hillly terrain that weaved in and out of huge oak trees that thought nothing of eerily popping a root up through a person's eternal resting place...
There were crypts and stones with barely legible epitaphs as time had its way with what was probably once a prettier place to visit loved ones who left.

What a perfect setting for the conversation we decided to have.
Bones and Stones. That was what we named our walk on that day.

My father had been ill for years, but started to decline, and my mother had recently learned some not-so-good news regarding her health.
I spoke of how I would handle one or both of my parents passing...
I don't view death as a finality, I view it as a transitions to the next phase of existence, so, even though it is difficult to lose someone we always have them around us.

We spoke of dying and death and transition from this existence to the next, the people we had "lost" throughout our lives.
Her most tragic of losses was of her friend that was killed as they were teens. She said she missed him all the time and how it had been a source of great pain for her, she wished she could just talk to him one more time. I told her that she could. This wasn't news to her though, she viewed life and death as I do. I guess she needed me to tell her it was OK to talk to him.


I told her that when she lay her head on her pillow that night to sleep, she should go to their favorite place and he would be there... she could tell him anything she wanted to, he would listen and bring her peace. She agreed.

Our conversation evolved to include our own mortality and how we would meet in this very place to talk, if one of were to pass before the other. The view in this picture to the right is at the very top of the hill from the graveyard on that day, overlooking the valley where she made her home.
Sometimes I meet here there, at first it was easier to go there to talk, but these days I just open my mouth wherever I am and I know she is listening.
She brings me peace.