Sometimes at night, I cradle Laura’s ashes or put on our favorite music and dance holding ‘Laura’ in my arms. Her ashes live in a pretty handmade paper box that will biodegrade one day soon when I slip it into the ocean so Laura can swim again with her beloved sharks, turtles and manta rays.
Before Laura died, I had no experience of death and thought a person’s remains were like the skin of a snake, a discarded left over with little or no value. Imagine my surprise when I picked up Laura’s ashes and found they had enormous energy and warmth. At first I thought I must be imagining things. But when Brenda our daytime Gerson helper stopped by for tea, she picked up Laura’s box and without any prompting said, ‘Wow! Can you feel the amazing energy!’ As the months have passed the energy has dissipated; maybe as Laura’s connection to this world grows weaker, or as the molecular memory in the ashes weakens. I am no scientist. But I wonder do we invest everything (and everyone) we touch with a little of our energy, leave a trail of warmth and delight, or sometimes anger and pain behind us? I only know that when I walk into a house, even an empty one, I can tell from the energy about the pain or joy of those who lived there.