At Least They're Committed

I’m disappearing.

No, not like ‘I’m going to disappear,’ rather I’m in the process of disappearing. Little by little, cell by cell.

I imagine it’s a lot like dying — you’re moving to another plane of existence and it’s frightening but you really don’t have a choice and maybe the only reason its frightening is because your brain has blocked out any memory of the messages from heaven that forewarned you about what to expect in this life — your life. Not anyone else’s. I think if we remembered getting here and what came before, we would all want to go home and we’d be even more unhappy than most already are in these flesh cages.

I’m not unhappy. Not at all! Just worried.

This transition to transparency hopefully will reach fruition before the winter holidays.

Step 1 is retirement on Friday, made all the more heart wrenching by the unexpected death Sept. 8 of the company CEO at only age 61. This team has been a huge part of my life and stuck with me for some 20 years. I started as just a grammar helper, then evolved to a contract employee, then to part time. And when 2.5 years I ago was pushed aside at a previous ‘professional’ position, this team quickly stepped in and grabbed me, creating a position just for me, and welcomed me full time to ensure I didn’t fall or fail.

I watched my boss’s funeral via streaming on Facebook on Tuesday. I guess you could say he was an odd egg (and at times he was shaped like one, too), but Todd always appreciated me That was refreshing.

The officiant at Todd’s celebration of life recalled how he has heard from people with NDEs who have gotten to meet Jesus! Wouldn’t that be amazing? I’m not worthy, of course, but it would still be absolutely, well, heavenly. If I could see Dad and Gabriel, that would just about be all I needed! And the pets, of course.

Step 2 is moving. What will become of our house? We have no idea. Once we’re gone, should it be sold? Rented? (I hate that idea!) Donated?

Papers will need to be signed on Oct. 1. That will be it. The window to our beloved ranch closes. More papers to be signed Oct. 3. Another door — the one that leads to full invisibility — opens. Soon after that, more searching, more wheeling and dealing to ultimately become incrementally imperceptible.

Step 3 is landing. Will I be able to land and remain invisible? To see, or not to see. Right here and right now, that is the question.