Anne

This time last year, we (my family) were in New York supporting my Aunt Annie through her transition. It was a difficult time and a special time. One of the particularities of my family I so appreciate is our ability to face and honor the process of death. It’s a sacred journey.

For this blog though, I didn’t want to focus on my aunt’s transition. Instead I wanted to focus on her adventurous and supportive side.

Anne was one of the first women to step forward in support of my journey to explore my abilities and heal. She was deeply spiritual and religious. She had many moments in her life where she felt Mother Mary was with her, talking to her and guiding her. She was always willing to hear my stories and share her own. She often expressed a desire to see and feel spirit as profoundly as I relayed back to her. The Universe heard her and gave her an opportunity!

~

About three or four years after I quit my job with the intention to focus on self-healing and my abilities; I had a series of repetitive dreams and messages that I needed to travel to sacred sites throughout the United States. I was extremely skeptical of them. Within weeks of my own dreams, others around me started getting similar messages for me. Even strangers were approaching me, urging me to travel to sacred sites. I was scared and reluctant.

My mother supported the messages and helped create an itinerary of sorts for me. She did not want me to go alone; she felt it would be dangerous. She was unable to go herself due to her work schedule. She called my aunt. Without hesitation Anne agreed. It was all kind of surreal. Everyone assured me I would know what to do when I got to each location. I felt like I was in an ocean, just letting the waves carry me. I was praying it would take me somewhere tangible and safe.

It WAS an adventure! And I wish I could share each site we went to and what we experienced. We were on the road though for weeks, so it’s a little too much for one blog. However I would like to share the most special moment, at least for me. It was our journey home.

Anne and I were in New Mexico at this point, with the intent to rest for a few days. We had many miraculous moments and just as many intense, scary moments throughout our journey. We were tired.

Within hours of checking into our stay we were made aware by the staff that Hurricane Sandy was getting ready to hit the East Coast. The original forecasted pathway had Hurricane Sandy traveling right up the Delaware River, and directly hitting my hometown/house. I remember feeling my head spin as I watched the forecaster point to Wilmington, Delaware as the intended impact. I remember Anne’s face as she watched. It was simultaneously not surprising (with all that we had been through) and at the same time, devastating (we were so exhausted).

On the verge of tears I asked her, “Aunt Annie, what do we do? If we drive straight through we might be able to beat it. But if we stay and wait, we will be driving through the aftermath.” I had this pit in my stomach, this fear that this was a result of us going to the sacred sites. In hindsight it seems silly; but at the time with all that we had seen and experienced; it felt personal.

She was quiet a few moments, thinking. Then her eyes softened and she said, “Aw honey, you know exactly what we are doing. You and I both know you are the type of woman who wants to be there and help those that need you, rather then arrive after it’s all said and done.”

She was right. I asked, “Can we make it though? We’re so tired.”

Without hesitation she replied, “We can.”

Anne was honest and blunt with me. The trip had taken a toll on her. She made it very clear that she wouldn’t be able to drive. She was too exhausted. She promised however, she would do everything in her power keep me awake and ensure I could keep going. She believed in me, in us. She believed we would make it home safely and in time.

We allowed ourselves 4 hours sleep at the retreat and then we were off. We drove 36 hours with only a 3 hour rest at a truck stop. The truth is we couldn’t have stopped even if we wanted to. The tails of Sandy were massive and they were already hitting the east coast. There were signs flashing everywhere, warning of road closures and stopped travel.

By far, the most intense part of the trip home was driving my little 2 door Hyundai Accent down the mountains on the Blue Route at 1 in the morning. Hail, wind, rain and massive trucks pushed us all over the place.

Aunt Annie kept her promise though. For 36 hours Anne talked. She never stopped. She kept me awake with stories, her inner reflections; almost like a stream of consciousness or a life review. She told me about her childhood, her family, my family, her adoration for Mother Mary, her own mother she missed so much, the birth of her sons and all that she wished for them, how she met my Uncle, her houses, her dreams, her fears, her failures, her frustrations...everything.

At 1 in the morning, driving down the mountain through hail and wind she was telling me her favorite flowers in great detail while she gripped the “oh crap” handle and I gripped the steering wheel.

I was in my early twenties then. I was trying to be the best version of me, while desperately searching for me. I remember listening to Anne’s life and realizing what an astonishing, strong, and powerful woman she was. I always thought the world of her. But until that moment, it was a very childish perspective of her, like how a child thinks a parent is great without ever knowing them.

I realized that night what made Anne special were all the tiny moments she shared. Moments where she succeeded, where she failed, where she loved and where she hated - tiny moments that defined her and added to her complexity, her depth. She was without a doubt, a master at getting back up again when life knocked her down or threw her a curveball. Her strength, the strength I always felt and saw in her wasn’t a mentality or a perspective of the ego.

Sitting next to me in that car was a woman who lived life and refused to stop. A woman with a deep, deep love and a reflective mind. Her depth astounded me. It humbled me. And I realized through her, the version of me I was searching for would only happen through living a life, just like her. Succeeding and failing, loving and hating - that’s what makes this moment with her so profound. Without knowing it, she was pointing the way for me for years to come. Without knowing it, I was soaking up the directions. Not on how to be a perfect and good person; but instead on how to be a strong woman, on how to keep going when the Universe throws curve balls.

There were a few moments on that drive where we doubted. When she was in doubt, I would say, “I will get you home Aunt Annie, we will make it. Just a few more hours.” And when I was in doubt, she would say, “Honey, we have no choice now, we are going home.”

When we pulled onto the street of my mom’s house at 3 in the morning, we were holding hands. As we pulled into the driveway we both joked, “told you.”

After that trip, every once in awhile Aunt Annie would call me, just to remind me of that trip and of the 36 hours home. And when Anne was passing last year ...when I knew our time was coming to a close - I drove hours, not as many, just to sit at her bed and say aloud to her again, “I will get you home Aunt Annie.” She smiled brightly and said, “Oh, I know honey.”

~

Much Love & Light,

Leila