Lyle died last night. 

It’s been a couple of hours since we heard. 

It’s been about 24 hours since we saw him last. 

Lori and I had discussed on Sunday whether to wait until Easter for a visit or go to Kelowna earlier in the week. We chose yesterday…and so were able to see him one last time. 

We were able to tell him goodbye. 

It was obvious upon our arrival that he was slipping. He didn’t want company so we went away for a few hours and then returned, hoping to find him in different spirits. He was not. He looked up at each of us briefly and then dropped his gaze. Lori asked if he wanted to talk and he shook his head no. 

It was clear that he preferred to be alone, as so many people do when they come to casting off the form that has served as the sole expression of Self for an entire lifetime. 

I do not believe that he was afraid…or depressed…just that he had other business to attend to… and that dragging himself back to spend a few more minutes with us was a delay he could no longer abide. 

He would pull up his shirt and make light clawing movements at his chest. 

He wanted out…wanted to be free…was ready to be free. 

And so now he is. 

And now is the time, then, for us to think of him and celebrate his wonderful long life and rejoice for the freedom of his spirit. 

I spoke last week about singing for him a couple of weeks ago. Here's that video.

 

copyright: Kimball Meyer, 2018