I get the aura of formaldehyde every now and then. Last night I was having dinner with my family, and while listening to my sister tell a story, I suddenly smelled formaldehyde. When this happens, what comes next is always the vision of John’s body, lifeless and cold. I am not engaged in the conversation anymore, and instead having my own internal experience. Present body, absent mind.
I have found myself in these moments in mid conversation, while driving, while giving a work presentation, while trail running with my dogs, eating a sandwich, for the last 3 ½ years. They don't happen often. There also never seems to be a warning, no major trigger word or situation. I smell it, I see him, I feel things, and then it passes.
The other night I had a dream that John came to me and Tristan to say hello. He looked the way he always had and was so glad to meet Tristan. After they shook hands, I went into give him a hug and he crumbled beneath me. All that was left was a pile of bones and ash on the floor.
For a while I felt that these moments were my own internal punishment that I would bring on myself. When I felt too relaxed, laughed too hard, kissed too passionately, enjoyed my day too much, I would bring on these visions as a reminder that all is not perfect, and getting too comfortable is dangerous. I’d feel guilty for having a great day, so I’d let myself go back and feel his cold still hands resting in mine. I’d smell the formaldehyde. I’d feel the pain again as if it were yesterday and then not feel as guilty for the things that happened that day that brought joy. As years have gone by, I’ve accepted these strange and sudden moments as a new normal.
I've also learned to forgive myself, to not worry anymore about what others think of my process, and that it is OK to love the woman I became after my husbands death. I no longer feel the need to punish myself by purposely bringing this on, but accept that when these moments occur unexpectedly, just lean into them and sit with it, it will eventually pass.
So these experiences for me bring on multiple questions. What's up with these strange dreams, these auras, and why right now? I wonder if maybe John is asking for my attention, maybe he needs to say something to the humans still here, so the vision of him both in the flesh and within the crumbles upon my feet are asking me to speak up. Maybe the God I envision and love is asking for my attention and utilizing John to consider what needs to be said. Maybe it is just simply what happens to those that lose someone so abruptly, a reminder that there is never really closure with experiences like that.
Every time I’ve written and shared my thoughts with others, every word and thought came on so strongly that I couldn’t hold back, I could not stop. I never considered myself a writer, yet something about the sudden abrupt death of my husband catapulted me into thoughts and visions that had to go to the computer screen and had to be shared. I’ve shared many things for my own release, my own validation, but every now and then I share something that I realize was never meant for me, it was meant for someone else.
So on this foggy rainy afternoon, I decided to go sit by John’s grave in Giles County, VA in the moss and wetness and consider, what should be said?
As I sit here quietly in the woods by my husbands resting place, the words of my soon to be husband Tristan came to mind. “To refuse love, is to refuse God.” Tristan said these words to me a few days ago while talking about the importance of family no matter what.
I think we live in a world where hate and judgment are just easy choices. I have found myself at a crossroad between the choice to feel angry or the choice to try and see what may be broken in someone else and have compassion towards it. I think finding love in everybody is a much harder path and it is not always natural to us, especially when people aren't like us. I know parents and children that don’t speak to each other anymore, spouses that have become roommates, co-workers that “hate” each other, siblings that are completely disconnected, friends that let a difference in opinion stop all communication. We’re too quick to complain, find the negativity in everything. We don’t know how to sit with ourselves in silence anymore and consider if we really like who we are, who we are becoming. We don’t really make room for God to engage with us, because it requires stillness, and total disconnection from our current world. I myself have been pretty guilty of this lately, which is why I think I’ve started to have these visions again, these odd dreams.
We are all going to leave our bodies one day, and the physical connection we had to our body, and to those around us will be no more. It is amazing how fast that can happen and how we’re not prepared. I wasn’t prepared then, and I’m really not prepared now and I think maybe John, God, the universe is reminding me of this simple fact on this rainy afternoon.
I’m sitting on a bench by John’s grave, and notice that all these pretty flowers surrounding him are going to start budding soon, and they will look so pretty. Underneath them are the remains of a physical body that once belonged to John Wilburn, yet what grows above him are flowers. I think that sometimes we have to allow our old selves to die and cast off regrets, anger, judgment, worry, in order to find new perspective, and new life that is waiting to explode within us. I believe that God imprints us with talents, unique thoughts, and purpose that's is instilled in us at birth. But we live in a world where it is so easy to lose sight of that, because the choice to hate is so much easier. We don't choose love, therefore we don't choose God, and we loose the explosion of love that was given to us from the moment we were born. We forget the imprinting, we don't even realize our capabilities, and we never find the best versions of ourselves.
To refuse love, is to refuse God. Well said Tristan my love. To refuse God is to refuse the simple act of just being here on this earth and doing the best that you can. I think I need to start asking myself, “is this really my best?” Are my thoughts, my treatment of others, the work I put forth, my participation in my relationships with others, truly my best?
If it is not, maybe I need to remember my late husband and how one moment he was a physical body, the next he was a crumble of ash in my hands. I need to smell the formaldehyde, remember the feeling of his cold hands and lips. How it can happen so fast and so suddenly. I want to be prepared, I want to feel that I did my best and I treated others in a way that chooses love, chooses God. None of us are perfect. I still get stressed over finances, over my dogs mud tracks in the house, dishes in the sink. I am not always my best, none of us are. On the other hand, I think the simple awareness of our choices, and knowing that we are actively trying to choose love, to choose God allows the imprint on our lives to come forward which brings out our best and spreads over others.
So go sit by your loved ones resting place from time to time. Let them speak to you and pay attention, they have an awareness of the universe that is beyond us. Let God engage with you through them. Let yourself lean into whatever comes forward, the auras, the visions, for they are simple reminders that we have that choice. If we choose love, we choose God, and then we become our best. So if you are smelling the formaldehyde, go ahead and embrace it, it may be bringing you back to your own imprint, to your best.
