The seven of us headed out of Northern Colorado. The mood was languid with an eagerness to get out on the road. We were both mentally spent, physically exhausted and very certainly sleep deprived. The sleep deprivation added to the surreal poetic nature to the our days honoring Marilyn.  We had spent the last few days packing the last of my wife’s mother’s possessions. That is a bit of an understatement as we lifted furniture, packed boxes, hauled trash to the dump and shredded the hell out of documents. The brunt of the work was done by the immediate family going through sentimental items such as vintage  photographs, artwork, plenty of books and the keepsakes Marilyn collected over the years. There were plenty of smiles and few tears lost into the dry hot Colorado air.

As we headed into the majesty that is Wyoming, we took in a road sign sign that read “No Services for the next 78 miles.” That sign was a foreshadowing of the absolute remoteness that is Wyoming. I didn’t drive much on this trip as I do not like to drive and my family doesn’t like my driving. Still whether driving or simply looking out the window at occasional prairie dogs or thunderstorms on the horizon, car travel is draining. The human body prefers movement and activity. Colorado faded into the rear view mirror and we silently slid across the sagebrush painted prairie of Wyoming.

Six hours later we entered the town of NewCastle, Wyoming thinking about getting some real food in our stomachs. The sun was quickly sinking in the western sky as daylight faded into the grassland prairie on the horizon.  This was Marilyn’s favorite, a road trip and the grasslands of Wyoming . The decision of what came next was entirely up to them as it should be. The decision was to head to the grasslands to scatter Marilyn’s ashes.

The seven of us started driving out a deserted road heading slowly into the vast emptiness that is Wyoming. We marveled at the stark beauty of the sky and the patterns etched within. The clouds were stratus and cumulus and the quietness of the countryside was deafening.   The car ride was quiet, somber and reflective. We spotted a rise on the horizon that teemed with possibility. A sunset of deep purple and escaping sunbeams was an hour away.

We came up to a road that headed further into the the vast green and muted purple of the grasslands of Wyoming. We took a left onto Mush Creek road. I have no idea of the name if the road we turned off from.

We drove west and we were greeted by brilliant yellow wild sunflowers that seemed to be catching the last rays of this sparkling midsummer day. We drove over a crest on the deserted road and headed back down the western side. By silent consensus, we quietly turned the car around and inched back toward the crest we just passed.

Without a sound, we exited the car and looked at the broad expanse of the sky and the surrounding grassland. The evening breeze played in the Wyoming grass. A night hawk flew over with a grace that matched the evening. We watched the flight of the noble bird, and we were in absolute peace that we had picked the perfect resting spot for Marilyn.  Marilyn rested comfortably somewhere content with our choice.

We each picked sunflowers from the side of the road and gathered in a nearly perfect semi circle.  We stood wordlessly listening to the wind along what was remaining of the fading dusk sky.  James, the youngest son, unceremoniously, placed a metal basting pan in the middle of our circle. Some of us held hands, and plenty of hugs and tears were exchanged.

Jenna and Mel, produced letters that they had witten days before. The plan was to burn these letters so they could be with the ashes we were about to spread, The pleasant grassland breeze persisted so that it took some artful deception and scattered dead prairie grass to ignite the fire.

Without a hush, we walked over to a spot off the road to spread the ashes. Once again we gathered around a less than perfect circle. Spreading ashes of a loved one is something we never train or prepare for.

We all dropped sooty ashes on the dry wind beaten soil.  Then James innocently tossed the last large plume of ash on the ground something happened beyond my spiritual belief or just plain serendipity. A white butterfly softly emerged from beneath the sentiment we left behind and fluttered into the grasslands. We then layed down our sunflowers to rest.

As the sun dramatically dipped into the western sky, we all took turns sharing special remembrances and  reflections of a mother, a critic and a beloved friend. Our daughter read sweet stories that reflected the beautiful relationship between a grandmother and granddaughter. I was simply thankful to be part of the experience and this family.

Tears were shed as we stood silently. The sun sank behind vibrant deep purple clouds.

I was once told by my pastor when I questioned the existence of a higher being that my disbelief was understandable. He said to me, “Mark have you ever heard a story or a piece of music that moved you to tears?”

I answered that of course I have.

He said “Well that is God.”

We were absolutely silent as we drove slowly, quietly back on Mush Creek Rd. We then made the left turn back to where we were staying for the night. It is there in the car that a song started to play on the radio that shook me to the core and made my spine tingle.  I believe it was the same for everybody else in the car except they knew the song was coming. They had played this song weeks earlier as Marilyn passed into the great beyond.  I have never heard a song played at the most perfect time and the most perfect place. Some would describe this as the existence of a higher power.

I have no idea why I was killed yesterday.  It is not like yesterdays matter anymore. I returned from a pleasant afternoon run where I pushed myself well past my limits. It was a joyous hour run where I felt more alive than I have in weeks. I looked forward to a shower and dinner out with my wife. Food always tastes better after a decent workout. These nights where to be savored.

While I am able to reflect on this is a somewhat a mystery to me and a mystery no one will will ever solve. Wars have been fought over this, many lives lost, probably over nothing.  One day they will figure out who murdered me.  Why I am able to reflect that’s my little secret.

While heading toward the mailbox, I waved to our neighbor as she awkwardly pulled out of her driveway. My former world suddenly went black as the mailbox remained ajar flapping in the breeze.  And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why somebody would kill me. But they did. And I am going to figure out why they killed me if it is last thing I do.  Sorry, for the bad choice in words at my expense.

I am a little bit grumpy right now as I did not expect things to turn out this way. I was never much of a religious person. I thought the concept of heaven and hell absurd. I thought that with down right holy conviction. And here I sit in eternity proven absolutely wrong.  There is a heaven and that pisses me off at this moment. There were no pearly gates, or judgement days. The entrance to heaven felt more like the finishing chute at a major marathon. Volunteers gave me water, a space blanket and a hearty high five for finishing. One volunteer looked vaguely like a gal I used to know. She gave me a crooked smile as I walked away. For a splendid second, I felt like I was walking on clouds expecting the endorphins to kick in. They never did.  My legs felt dead, especially my hamstrings. They have always been my achilles heel. A beagle nudged my calves as her leash hung from her mouth,  I gently led her, of course with her nose to the clouds, in the direction everybody seemed to be heading.

I really needed the endorphin rush as the garden of Eden was was not exactly heaven on earth. It is quite possible I may have entered through the wrong door. I had no way of knowing because I was wondering around eternity in a space blanket. And to put it bluntly, I was thankful for the space blanket because that is what happens after you have run a long way. That is you get a spine chilling chill. Usually endorphins take care of this type of thing. The laws of thermodynamics have no real foothold in Eternity. One day, I hope to change that. I really needed a beer.

I followed a lush path through an ancient growth forest full of 800 year old redwoods that surrounded a trailer park of sorts. I was intrigued by the trees as they seemed to silently try to touch the sky. Then again, I realized there was no real sky.  The sky was light blue and somewhat hypothetical in and around the horizon. It felt almost earthlike. When I looked straight up the sky it was a deep azure blue as the constellations reveal themselves one star at a time, You couldn’t beat the unobstructed view of the heavens and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the paradoxes.

Much to my mortal surprise, after enjoying the heavenly view I received a gentle tap on the shoulder.  Obviously startled, I was new here and assumed this being was simply seeking conversation. In a former life,  I always loved talking to strangers.  In retrospect, what really perplexed me  was my connection back to a bygone era where I was truly alive. Well that was all of four hours ago. But who really knows as our brains have so much electrical energy after death that this could be 500 years into the future. And I seemed to still be using it. I am just a lost soul living in a…..I have no idea why that song popped in my head.

“Hello my name is John”

“John 14:1-3 even says that Jesus is in heaven preparing a place for us to live. In heaven, those saved by God will have new bodies without the curse of sin!”

“Dear John I thought I broke up with you a long time ago.”

He didn’t get the inference.

At this point I realized I was totally naked or maybe I felt naked. My space blanket was gone. I honestly didn’t care all that much as I felt like I had been drugged. I felt like I was dying.

Despite my nakedness, I still somehow snuck an ounce past whoever was manning the pearly gates. I distinctly remember that crooked smile. Yes I had brought with me an ounce of dignity. And then I found a joint behind my ear. I have no idea how it got there or if it is of use where I am now. I am honestly having a hard time figuring out where exactly I am. This feels like a mid life crisis of sorts. I realize it is a bad time to have one. I really need to know how I got here.

There I stood next to a crystal clear stream that appeared to be rushing off a snow melt from above. I sat and stared into the water, suddenly irritated. I instantly yearned to go back to where we all belong. I could taste the ocean on my skin as I exhaled.

And where exactly was John as I was suddenly brought back to earth. I stand corrected i was brought back to reality. I was having a hard time figuring out what i was really thinking.  I was just trying to survive the serendipity here  The inadequacies of spoken language, even within one’s head, took on a different perspective . It was a living hell of sorts.

“isn’t this place just heaven?”  came a voice from right over his right shoulder.

“Hey there John”,  I replied without looking over my shoulder.

Suddenly there was a whisper in my ear and it certainly wasn’t John.

“Hola, mi nombre es Heidi” came a voice easily understood in all languages.

I thought to myself, A German girl speaking to me in Spanish is far more what I expected from heaven.  Or I had taken the wrong door. What bothered me is, that I immediately understood the nuance. I turned around slowly and gave a side eyed glance toward where the whisper came. And there she stood in all her complexity wearing a soccer kit from the Canadian Women’s team heading to the World Cup.

“Hi I am Heidi. said the gal in a Canadian Soccer Kit.

I wanted to ask her if she knew Christine Sinclair, still I kept my cool. I soon learned she worked the shift right after John.

The gal in a Canadian Soccer kit asked me if I thought this place felt like heaven. She wasn’t actually wearing an entire soccer kit, rather a jersey and a scarf. He remembered how excited he was about the Women’s World Cup. He rooted for everything Canadian with a little more fervor than most.

She spoke slowly as another girl softly played dulcimer in rhythm with her voice. A few chickens walked in rhythm with her.

“You met John already. He walks around in eternity bitter that Heaven is not exactly like he planned. He wanted angels, harps and clouds. He wanted extra credit because he made a fortune directing Chick-Fil A  commercials. He reasoned, that they closed on Sundays.  He is another lost soul”

“I am here to ask you a few questions to determine your eternity. You come before us with with extraordinary credentials. You seem to understand the metaphor in scripture and live your life accordingly. The golden rule is pretty darn simple.”

“You mean this is the pearly gated exam I thought to be true fiction my entire life?” I asked the gal in the soccer uniform.

I honestly have no idea how this process works. I just ask the questions here. It is not a bad gig and you get to meet beings from many different universes.

Universes. do you mean Universities?

No she replied with a heavenly smirk.

Interesting. Can I ask you a question?

You just did.

Can I ….never mind.  What I really wanted to know is. Am I dead?.

I don’t even know If I am dead. It certainly doesn’t feel that way but something tells me I am.

“Okay what questions do you have for me? I asked her not really wanting to get on  with the ceremony. She pretty much ignored me and started talking about the logistics that go into running this thing called eternity. She talked to me about concepts such as capacity and sustainability.  She chatted briefly about the earth’s population, its quizzical model for destruction. She told me that was not her planet of origin . I noted her cute use of a tense of  language that I never thought would ever exist.

In the voice of a yoga teacher, she told me about the thousands of religions that inhabited the universe. She found religion to be a curious spot of bother. In this place of eternity, people of a religion made up maybe one percent of the residents in eternity.

I pondered my countries reluctance to adopt the metric system, and did not give her math much credence, But I knew where she was coming from, well only  philosophically.

The soccer kit seemed so out of place. I just remembered Christine Sinclair actually played for the University of Portland. I suspected I had to keep really focused. This was the advanced Theology final I never got around to completely study. I never prepared for pearly gates questions. It never mattered all that much to me. That is until it did.

A gentle wind suddenly picked up from somewhere. It occurred to me the wind came from below. It was a wind direction I found offsetting. Suddenly Heidi was all business as she slid a pair of sunglasses down her face.

“What the hell do you need those for?

“I don’t understand your question and I need to ask you a few questions.”

I gave a passive aggressive gasp and asked her to proceed.

“So what brought you here?”

“God only knows.”

“Who?” she replied startled.

“Jesus Christ”  I answered as if it was ingrained in me.

“I am new here, stop talking to me in metaphor”

We both sat silently and not a word passed between us for hours.  She  walked away silently in a realm where footsteps could not be heard.  She then suddenly turned and sauntered back toward me and gave me a knowing wink. She extended her right hand and put two envelopes in my hand.

“What is this.” I meekly asked

“It is your mail from your mailbox, do you remember you went out to get the mail?”

Abraham Harold Maslow was an American psychologist who was best known for creating Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, a theory of psychological health predicated on fulfilling innate human needs in priority, culminating in self-actualization.

In reality little Abraham was born at a very early age. As a baby he self-actualized with the best of them mastering the skills of crawling, smiling and eventually walking. He was a very happy toddler with exceptional self esteem and bursts of self-actualization. It was these lower level needs where he struggled. His connection to his parents was lukewarm at best.

Yet he struggles with self-esteem, love and belonging.

His mother was a narcissist, the tension outside the home. permeated home.  Maslow and other young people with his background were struggled to overcome acts of racism and ethnic prejudice in the attempt to establish an idealistic world based on widespread education and economic justice.  Tension outside his home was also felt within it, as he rarely got along with his mother, and eventually developed a strong revulsion towards her.

Ironically, While jogging, Maslow suffered a severe heart attack and died on June 8, 1970, at the age of 62 in Menlo Park, California.

And there he was was doing his self actualizing while demoting himself down the pyramid of life.

Abraham Maslow went for a run filling omnipresent level needs that would venture into self actualization Sometimes a run is simply a run

To build self esteem.

After I moved to the Pacific Northwest, my Dad had many questions. He was never one for travel, but he did haphazard research and he thought he knew the place. More likely, he would find the oddest thing about a local and obsess about it. He was never one who likes to talk on the phone, and he would simply deflect and ask me, “HAVE YOU FOUND SASQUATCH?”

I would answer something just as odd and this would be close, “Yes Dad we found him and he is living in our third bedroom.” The habits of familiar conversation are a quirky entity.

A few years ago I bought him what I thought was the most perfect gift. I found a pair of Sasquatch socks and gave them to him on his birthday. He gushed in his form of appreciation. That one thing I kind of miss about our father was witnessing how set he was in his time-honored traditions. While he as alive, I never saw my Dad wear these socks. Then again we have never seen our Dad in shorts. He wore long pants ever day of the year.

After he passed we went through the quizzical ritual of gathering his belongings.   It was an odd assortment of Hip Boots, Golf Balls and television remotes. The furniture had faint cigarette mustiness. I will not even talk about cleaning out the enigmatic scientific project he was working on in the refrigerator. At the end of reflection, I noticed the Sasquatch socks, in their original packaging, sitting innocently next to his bed.

What was I thinking? My Dad wore the same type of socks every single day. Yes the type of socks my grandmother bought for him. He liked those socks. He would not be comfortable in SAWSQUATCH socks.

I gave those socks to him years ago. But there they sat in a drawer next to his bed.

I took those socks with me, put them in my luggage and flew them back to Oregon.

I am wearing them as I type this.