Finding Freedom in Letting Go
Reflections on Loss, Unconditional Love, the Lifelong Path Toward Becoming, and Kris Kristofferson
“Half of human experience is mediated through loss and disappearance.” - David Whyte
It’s been almost a year since my father passed away and only a few weeks since the lonely, tragic passing of my estranged brother, who was homeless and living under a bridge in Texas. Yep, the “gentle, intelligent” brother I wrote about in the Huffington Post a couple of years ago who considered himself an “Evolutionary Linguist-Spiritual Warrier Fighting for Human Free Will on Earth.”
My father died on my brother’s birthday – 11/11, and I’m just now reminded that one of my brother’s favorite conspiracy theory hashtags was #1111. I'm unsure what to think about that, but I am paying close attention.1 Meanwhile, I’m still a long way from fully processing the passing of both in less than a year.
Like everyone in the history of man, my dad and brother were complicated humans who battled the light and dark. My father's conditional love and my brother's rebellion against all things conditional were particularly damaging to their relationship and to me as a bystander. I recognize that these patterns weren't solely their fault. If anything, the American Dream and pressure on men “to provide” perpetuated these dynamics. In the end, sometimes I think my dad died disappointed, and my brother died free from, well, everything.
These past few weeks, I’ve felt like I am in the spin cycle of the washing machine of life. Like a computer that’s run out of memory, my mind is randomly glitching; for example, I recently found my missing phone in the refrigerator. Despite this, I’ve also been in this incredible state of flow.
The day after my brother was cremated, I woke up to the September Super Moon shining in my window. A lunar eclipse the night before and a lovely invitation in my inbox inspired me to try a meditative drumming chakra cleansing. My dreams have been intense and delicious. My neck and back pain has disappeared. My work days have been filled with incredible focus, during which I can accomplish a handful of creative tasks, clean out my inbox by lunchtime, and spend the rest of the afternoon hiking up muddy trails covered with golden Aspen leaves with my sweet pup, Willow. The conversations I dreaded have been easy and honest. My daughter and I split a wishbone that popped both legs off, leaving the middle flying across the room, and we realized we wished the same thing … peace and safety for my brother's three young adult children.
The concept of “unconditional love” has always been a mindbender for me. I found this in a journal written just after my father passed away:
I used to think that “unconditional love” meant you had to love people (specifically your parents, siblings, spouses, and children) no matter what. No matter how shitty they could be, no matter if they hurt you.
Now I realize the true intention of this aspiration is giving love freely with no expectation or desire for anything in return.
In the past six months, I’ve also been thinking a lot about SERVICE from multiple perspectives. Last week’s Teton Leadership Summit featured Howard Behar, former long-time President of Starbucks, speaking on “servant leadership, corporate culture, and putting people first” in the context of doing business better. Speaking of personal relationships outside of work, the concept of service came to me from a different angle when I attended a workshop on understanding ancestral trauma with Cherokee Brown from the Wind River Community Alliance.
At the beginning of this intense experience, Cherokee asked us to close our eyes and think of anyone, alive or dead, who we cared about deeply and positively impacted our lives. We went around the circle, and everyone individually shared who their person was and why—grandparents, siblings, old friends, and cousins. Oddly, no one mentioned their spouse or lover … but I digress.
After sharing, Cherokee pointed out that the commonality was that these people served us by making us feel seen and loved, with whom we could be ourselves, and who lifted us rather than holding us down. If I were explaining this concept to a second-grader, I’d say they were bucket fillers – rather than the all-too-common bucket-takers who stymie us (often with good intention and the name of love) from fully stepping into our potential.
I love the concepts of unconditional love and service without expecting anything in return. Still, there's a point where, if we want to become our best and authentic selves, we must let go of relationships that don’t serve us. We’ve all been traumatized in the past by bucket takers who serve themselves without ever or rarely giving back. As we mature, we realize it’s our responsibility to protect our bucket and “put on our oxygen mask first,” as they say. I wonder, not if “unconditional love” is a “yes, but” or “no, and” situation?
From this thread, the solution to this mind-twister about unconditional love is that a healthy relationship is built on reciprocity. To be really healthy, we need courage and vulnerability to offer our whole selves first. This past year and the passing of these men in my life have been a giant step in my journey of ancestral healing and inspiration in so many ways to be a better ancestor by stepping deeper into myself.
And then I found this (or it found me) on the floor of my daughter’s car while looking for some keys:
I had one last epiphany this week when Kris Kristofferson passed away. When I heard the news, I was transported back to a pivotal experience at sixteen – the first concert of my life at Red Rocks. I can easily recall the photos of him that decorated my teenage bedroom wall, and I have easily sung along to Me and Bobby McGee thousands of times. He was 88, the same age as my dad.
Like my dad, Kristofferson was a highly educated, multi-sport collegiate athlete; unlike my dad, he was an officer and helicopter pilot in the military. Ultimately, though, Kristofferson chose the life of a pioneering figure in the outlaw country movement of the 1970s despite being (or thanks to), among many other things, a genius with an IQ of 163 and a Rhodes Scholar with a Master's from Oxford University. Not living up to his parent’s expectations of him resulted in his mother disowning him and not speaking to him for 20 years.
Looking back at experiences that shaped my life when I was young, I wonder who impacted me more in choosing the unexpected dirtbag outdoor adventure lifestyle over the boardroom after graduating from Stanford, Kristofferson, or my dad?
Leonard Cohen supposedly said that “Kristofferson once told him he wanted the opening lines of Cohen's “Bird on a Wire” on his tombstone: “Like a bird on a wire, Like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried, in my way, to be free.”2
I wrote this poem a couple of months after my dad passed away when I was surprised to find myself at peace.
Becoming Matriarch I’ve been training for this, for the day the Patriarch releases his grip. Organizing my mind, opening my heart. Where I imagined dread, sunny November days held off the cold, dark sleet. Where I imagined sorrow, flirting finches on an aspen branch made me grin. Where I imagined chaos, I found deep, meditative states and thick butternut squash soup. Where I imagined over-indulging, I experienced awe and a deep desire to care for my body. Where I imagined depression I found peace while taking long winter walks in the woods. Where I imagined anxiety and sibling rivalry I was reminded that “Our dragons are princesses in disguise.” Where I imagined loneliness, I found stillness and joy in solitude and like my unlikely Christmas cactus, I blossomed.
I wrote this the last time I saw my brother in person in 2022
Is Love Enough?
You wandered back home,
You rocked the boat,
You drug along unnerving chaos,
You sang of heartbreak.
I tipped my head to Orion shining in the dark and wondered …
What happened to our canny boy?
What shattered your dreams?
What inspired your distrust?
What hammered your innocence?
A shiver ran down my back …
Inside your scrambled cortex?
Inside your sagging skin?
Inside your black box of fear?
Inside your disappointment?
I began to wring my hands and dig through my memories …
When did you stop believing?
Where did you go last Thursday?
What decieved you?
Why isn’t love enough?
I took a morning walk in the freezing rain and asked ...
Who I am to judge
while I swim in privilege, the same
privilege that you blame for your ruin?
Who are any of us to judge?
Hope is a cresting wave
Happy is an ethereal drum,
Hunger leaves us lonely, but
Hell is not our destiny.I wrote this a few days ago …
The Last Word
Where did you go, my sweet brother
who joyfully danced in a fluffy pink tutu
to earn cheers from your sisters until realizing
this disappointed Dad?
Your brilliant mind
crumbled for the last time
under a lonely bridge when your
body collapsed.
You spoke to me through TikTok
from deep in the dark web trying to
outsmart the system that bound you
to impossible measures of success.
My mind is bumbled by a
bramble of memories but
I refuse to live in the past,
though it pulses through my DNA.
DNA be damned.
Did we desert you?
Or just couldn’t go there?
Serving you, my dear reader, means being more truthful and raw in my writing and encouraging you to be more open to everything in life—tragedy, awe, boredom, fury, and passion. When we pay attention, a lot can happen in the course of one day. I thank you all for being of service to me–for reading my rants, for pushing me to keep writing, and for letting me into your hearts and minds.
Just learned this:
The number 1111 is considered an angel number, which is a sequence of numbers that some believe are messages from the universe:
Spiritual awakening: 1111 is a symbol of spiritual awakening, manifestation, and divine guidance.
New beginnings: 1111 can represent new beginnings, leadership, independence, and individuality.
A reminder to trust your intuition: 1111 is a reminder to listen to your intuition and trust your gut feelings.
A sign of angelic beings: 1111 is a sign that angelic beings are near, offering love, protection, and guidance.
A message to be optimistic: 1111 is a message to be optimistic and realign your priorities in life.
A signal to embrace change: 1111 is a signal to embrace change and stay positive.
The number 1 is considered a “Master Number” that represents intuition, dreams, and spiritual guidance. Repeating the number 1 four times, as in 1111, amplifies its energy.
Another beautiful article Sue. Thank you for sharing. And once again, you jog memories for me. My mom passed on my younger brother’s birthday in 2012. My father passed on my older brother’s birthday in 2020. My step father since I was six passed away in 2022 at 100 on my younger brother’s wife’s birthday. So strange how that plays out.
Your mention of Cherokee and the wind River experience conjures up just very recent treks in the canyon of ancients territory in southwest Colorado out of the cortez area while visiting with a close friend. The Pueblos and kivas that go back over a thousand years while witnessing the rugged geology that goes back a hundred million years. Contemplation for sure.
My condolences on your recent losses and, as always, be well.
Bob Laws