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My Friend Died This Week

Dear Friends,


My friend died on Wednesday.

We had been the closest of friends for twenty plus years. We witnessed each other, grew ourselves in the presence of each other, shared secrets and passions between us, and celebrated each other. We were in love with each other.

And, she died.

She was on the planet on Tuesday, and is in the invisible realm today.

And I am feeling many things. Sadness; I will miss her. Pure joy; that we loved each other so completely. Expectancy; for the possibility of her spiritual visitations.

An energy doctor told me that each time a friend or relative dies, they are passing the baton of energy to us to live. I tell my daughter that when I die I want her life to be MORE fully alive and vital, not less. My spiritual brother John would equate death to a Soul Retrieval and ask what part of me died along with my friend, and what part of me I retrieved from her passing. I sit with all of this today, and celebrate her life tonight.

My celebration tonight will be private. It will be between God and I. Her family will host a memorial service in a few weeks and there will be a public acknowledgement of her life, and her people will come together at a specific place and time to give her a send off. I will be there; and it will be grand. Yet, tonight will be intimate. I will speak words of love and cry; maybe even wail. I will thank God for my friend and appreciate all she was to me and all we were together. I will laugh some and out of this release I trust will come a way I am to secretly honor my dear friend. When my grandfather died I planted a family of bright roses. When my father died I gave beautiful antique Chippendale couches with matching chairs to a homeless shelter to “class it up.” I gave money to an organization that houses street kids. And, I donated hundreds of pieces of professional clothing to homeless men for their job searches. And, nobody knew. It was between me and God. I look forward to seeing what is mine I will do to honor my beloved friend.

Her name was Nina Alexander. I first met her when I spoke at a spiritual practitioner gathering. Then, again when the two of us served on an international board of directors for our church body. We recogized the “imp” in each other and immediately hit it off. Each morning would take a walk together and through stories, introduce ourselves one to another. After our three years of service where we saw each other four times a year, we remained friends. Then, I traveled the country on a “Forgiveness Tour.” She was my home base for Los Angeles. Each time I visited, I would drive up in my car overflowing with clothes, books and stuff for my tour and she would welcome me with a glass of champagne and a beaming smile. My family thought I was insane to drive the country and talk about forgiveness. Nina thought I was courageous and bold. It was before cell phones, GPS, blogs, easy-to-access internet, and she would toast me with each arrival and then brag me up to her friends. She knew what I was doing; and more importantly, who I was.

I took her to her into her first “sex store” back when we had to look them up in a phone book and enter through a back door into a darkened room. Together we laughed at all of the weird contraptions and asked questions of the sales staff leaving in tears and with sore bellies from the laughter. Years later I would take a group of her friends (all 80 years of age and older) on a field trip to the sex store, only now the store had a front door, chandeliers and plush carpet and there was no laughter. We were serious about what we could learn from the sales clerks who understood biology and the power of a well kept body.

We traveled together to Seattle, Sedona, Las Vegas, Lake Havasu, Phoenix, and Los Angeles. She met my entire family, and adopted my daughter and grand kids as a “chosen” family of hers. When we were together, we were known to stay up until 2 or 3 am playing cards. She was the poorest loser I knew and if she was losing would quit before the game was over or accuse me of being a cheater up through the final hand.

Nina loved good food and good drinks. We went to so many parties I couldn’t count them. We shared birthdays together, Thanksgiving meals together, Easter and several Christmas holidays. We sat at her kitchen table together and talked about God, angels, and what we knew to be true of our souls.

Nina taught me how to age gracefully, love fiercely, and how to stay curious each step of the way.

Nina was to celebrate her 92nd birthday this week, and instead she exited stage left. She died quickly, painlessly, and with a visitor in her home. For this I am grateful.

I knew she loved me. She knew I loved her. It doesn’t get much better than that.



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