The Detritus of a Life

on the death of my brother-in-law, Luis Moreno

Kathleen Devanney wrote about the essence of a life, complete with kaleidoscope art:

I have been pondering what’s left when the essence is gone. Is the essence ever gone? What’s up with that?

My brother-in-law Luis Moreno died Wednesday. He was ridiculously handsome, annoyingly funny, relentlessly himself and full of himself. He was loyal, stubborn, loving in a needle-you-to-death kind of way. For my daughters, introducing the boyfriend was a rite of passage, not for the faint of heart.

Luis loved music more than almost anything, except for water in an ocean or pool, except for friends and family, except for my sister-in-law and the daughter they never thought they could have. Since being diagnosed out of the blue with pancreatic cancer and six months to live, I’ve seen him fight for every moment with them through nauseating chemo and debilitating pain, extending that prognosis for another year.

I never thought maturity was a word I’d associate with Luis. I happened to see him just before the diagnosis. He joked that he was planning to outlive his 99-yr-old aunt and my daughter said he was just stubborn enough to do that. But we never thought he’d grow up. He’d be even more full of himself at 99, swatting away grandkids with his cane, making fun of himself and you in the process, maybe not in that order.

But grow up he did, with grit and determination to face living head-on. Even barely conscious on his death bed, with my daughters holding his hands and sniffling back their tears, they could tell he was laughing at them, telling them not to take it all so seriously. And heroic journeys made and dramatic gestures planned, all went mysteriously awry, thwarted by circumstance. I think it was Luis fucking with them.

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I know you have questions and I’ll link an episode from the very start, when those questions were relevant. For now, I’d ask you to think about why those questions matter. Are they about Luis or to convince yourself this couldn’t be you? As a former hospice volunteer with a daughter in bereavement counseling, I can tell you most questions are a way of deflecting fear, of blaming the deceased for decisions they made or didn’t make. They’re not helpful.

And we don’t know, really, if this is you in another form. Maybe this is something that needed to happen and this person, in some non-conscious way, offered to fill that role instead of you. Maybe you’re breathing right now, making plans with your loved ones, because another chose to carry your talisman into the next world. Honor whatever choices brought them there and be grateful. Life is precious and precarious.

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My daughter Cassandra, who always has interesting questions, has asked each of us what we’d like her to do on the day we die. My ex has said she should drive around with the windows rolled down belting out John Mayer. For Luis, it was go to the beach and put their feet in the sand, then have some great Italian food and Chianti. So that’s what they did. I made an old-fashioned tonight in his honor. I don’t know how long I can use that excuse, but I’m thinking a good year.

What I’ve told my daughters is that on the day I die, I want them to look for me everywhere. I don’t think they can get rid of my essence that easy. I think they’re stuck with me coming back in different forms, the detritus of my life drifting into unexpected corners. I may show up as a cat or a dragonfly, a friendly nod from a stranger, or a wise and witty comment online.

But mostly, they’ll recognize me by the way things happen in their lives. They’ll say, “No way that was an accident. The timing was too weird. Did you see the way it all came together, just in the nick?” That will be me saying ‘I told you so’ from the grave. There’s meaning in everything.

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For Luis, however, I’ve taken to blaming him when things go wrong in ways that are bizarre, where you say, “What are the odds?” Instead of cursing fate or circumstance, it just makes me laugh. I say to myself, “There he goes again, making mischief. Reminding me, ‘Don’t take yourself so seriously. Pipe down and put on some tunes.’”

(thanks to Amy at I Am Here for It, Whatever It Is for her AI Extravaganzas. Not to be missed if you haven’t yet checked them out.)

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For more, here is Meaning Is All There Is and, as promised, the Cancer Co-Vax Connection:

A viewer warned his loved ones that he was putting my 'crazy' in his echo chamber. To live up to the warning, I bring on the crazy by talking about ultimate reality with Sufi sayings, Jewish legends, free-will astrologer Rob Brezsny and Terence McKenna. I tell the story of a mole turned hawk, and Russell Brand kissing Yuval Noah Harari's forehead. I cite Kurt Vonnegut's 'karass' in the disorganized religion of Bokonon and quote Caitlin Johnstone on being ineffable. I end with a simpler explanation of Charles Eisenstein's Parallel Timelines and my craziest theory to date, involving the word 'tantric'.

Examines the Turbo Cancers and resurgences of cancers in remission related to the CoVax. Looks at promising intravenous Vit C therapy being done by Dr. Nathan Goodyear. Begins with the spiritual context of A Course in Miracles as the only alternative to "God is cruel' or 'the world is cruel.' Differentiates between miracles and magical thinking, including Barbara Ehrenreich's Bright-Sided on the dark side of positive thinking. Delves into the psychology of obedience and authority in response to life-threatening illness, and whether the body controls the mind or vice-versa.