I Feel Like a Chocolate Bowl That Has Been Licked Clean (24/3/2012)
My son Paul died in Bangkok on Friday March 16 2012 at the age of 32. He was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes when he was 8 years old and this illness controlled every aspect of his life (and mine as well) from then on out.
I wrote the words below 8 days after Paul passed away. Melanie (Paul’s Mum), Allissa (his sister) and I flew to Bangkok on Sunday March 18 and with the help of 2 of Paul’s Thai friends we organised a Buddhist funeral at Wat Samiennaree in Bangkok which spanned 4 days.
As I recall the services ended on the Friday when Paul’s body was cremated and on the following day Saturday 24 March we released Paul’s ashes into the Chao Praya River.
This is the day I wrote the following words.
Imagine a big bowl of melted chocolate, someone comes along and eats most of it with a spoon…..then someone else scrapes the chocolate off the sides of the bowl and THEN a kid licks the bowl clean.
That’s how I feel today. I feel like the bowl that has been emptied until there is absolutely nothing left.
The chants and prayers at the Buddhist temple and our intentions to see Paul on his way have completed. The result was absolutely amazing. I believe that due to all that has happened over the past 4 days Paul has shed himself of so much baggage and that he is now fully prepared to move forward into a new life with brand new goals and brand new challenges.
In my reality, over the past few days Paul has been everywhere, sending out signs and letting us know that he was here, there and everywhere.
All of us, the monks, his friends, Melanie, Allissa and me have done such a damn good job helping him make this huge transition. He has now taken the “bull by the horns” and is in control. That’s just what we wanted but all of a sudden he’s not there for us anymore he’s begun whatever new cycle he has chosen.
Well done Paul.
Now it’s time for me to confront that we won’t be eating together anymore, we won’t be having our marathon conversations again, I won’t sit at home dialling Paul’s number over and over again worrying about whether he is OK, we won’t be going on any more long walks.
Get the picture………
Now it’s time for me to cry for myself.
I’ll be strong most of the time but there will be times like today that I sob, I wail, I blubber and shed rivers of tears.
