Message 38 – Be the Observer


Today is one year since Jason’s passing. In his usual style, he gave me a creative anniversary gift.

I was in the water in Gloucester in Jason’s Cove, swimming in his ashes as I had done about a year ago. I had received a strong message from him a few months ago to release the rest of his ashes, to release attachment to his form. I decided to cheat and keep a small amount in one of his treasure boxes, the one with the coyote in the wild southwest colors. Family and a few friends were with us. I cried on the way, passing by the place in Essex that Chuck and I had always met to pick Jason up from each other. It felt so strange revisiting this day of passing, and I was determined to focus on the celebration of his passing into the light; that felt good to me.

I found myself watching the ashes swirl in the water. A year ago this was a powerful shamanic experience, feeling his energy in the ashes, letting it release the intensity of grief. This year it was different. I watched the ashes in interest. I observed the texture. I watched my emotions come up – missing him, wishing he hadn’t died, feeling the fatigue of so much grief over the past year, feeling the joy of having him in my life. The ashes, the emotions, they were all dust, they were all experiences that were what they were. No judgment, just observation.

I looked around Jason’s cove, feeling his presence. The feeling of presence wasn’t separate from me as it was in the past. He was watching as I was watching; we were the Observer together, there was no separation.

Observing the rose petals float to the far end of the marsh was felt so peaceful; it felt like Jason’s energy. He reminded me to just be and observe. I really got in that moment how Jason was most of his life. He knew how to be and observe. He was always connected to Source in this way. I connect to Jason by just being and observing.

My playfulness took over as other dear ones joined me to swim.

The sacred puja ceremony Chuck led after the swim brought me visions of understanding we are on this earth for a short time. Our energy, our spirit, our soul, lasts forever. Jason is with me in a bigger way than most earth-bounds; he is teaching me to think outside the box, to think outside the body, where it’s all at.

I am blessed to know that the best way to honor my dear son and spirit friend Jason is to be and observe without judgment. Everything has beauty; he certainly knew how to capture that in his photography.

As I swam today I observed the tall green blades of the marsh grass. It reminded me of what his friends Aliey, Samille, and Audrey wrote, the ones who have planned the candle-lit walk to the river we will have this evening:

“The world turns, the sun shines, the grass grows, the birds sing-all of these are simple things that we all know. We’ve always known them, and we always will.

A lot of people walk by a single blade of grass, without even thinking about the fact that it’s there. But really, who would? No sane man would stop to greet a mere piece of grass, which could be plucked so easily from the ground.

Jason was a sane man, and let me tell you, he would stop to greet anybody and give them a hug. It didn’t matter who they were, or what kind of a person they were, he was always there to hug, and to talk to. It didn’t matter if he was jogging down the hallways of the school, ponytail flapping in the wind and a fantastic grin on his face, he could always stop for a moment and say hello; even to a blade of grass.

He was indefinitely in love with art. It didn’t matter what form-whether it was musical, literate, visual, or any other form you could imagine, he loved it, and he lived it. He’s absolutely famous in the area, and to some people even all over the world, who have viewed his work either in local shows, or on his DeviantArt account, which is

Just like grass, Jason was gone far too quickly, far too easily, and way before he had finished growing. You could ask just about any kid in town where they were when they heard the news on August 6, 2009. Ipswich, being such a small town, everyone knows almost everybody else. The community was rocked, and people from all over came to Jason’s ceremony. The room was hot from humidity and grief, but no one minded at all. At the end, everyone received rose petals, and many still have them.

Here we are, a year later. A year of grief, forgiveness, growth, laughter, birthdays, graduations, pain, change, love, and so much more. A year of Jason. So many people have dreamt about him countless times, others have only gotten to see him once. Others haven’t seen him in their dreams at all; instead, he’s come to them while they’re awake. He’s still loving as much as he ever did, if not more. He’s helped Samille rekindle her love for performing arts. He guided me, Aliey, through a horrendous panic attack during the MCAS; I don’t know how I would have gotten through it if he hadn’t been there holding my hand the whole time. I know he’s visited countless others in dreams and more. Jason, you just coming to say hey has helped a ton of people get through everything, and thanks.

To celebrate the fantastic 17 years that we were blessed to spend with Jason, we’re going on a stroll on the night of his passing. Whether you knew him very well or not, everyone is welcome. Please bring a candle, we’re beginning at Audrey’s house at 8pm and then walking downtown, and to either the Green Street Bridge, or the Ebsco Publishing Company Riverwalk, (we’re still trying to decide which would be better,) where everyone will blow their candle, and say a memory of Jason and/or a prayer to him. Then, everyone’s going back to Audrey’s to share an evening of memories, love, and Jason.

You’re amazing Jason. We’ve always known that, and we always will.”