This is How It Is, as expressed by my brother’s passing.
By: Will Lanni
Tags: Family, Phenomenology, Grief, Grief And Loss, Acceptance

My brother Anthony’s transformation continues today. The mortal form of him — his two-legged multi-purpose carbon-and-saline auto-mobile — was reduced to ash.

My older brother Anthony, holding me as a baby. ~1974

In the near future, it will be spread and buried and returned to the places he loved, and, ultimately, from where it came. That is one of the unfinished tasks left to the ones who remain here.

In the meantime, that energy life force that saw the iceberg as it struck the hull and abandoned ship is continuing the process of transitioning into wherever that energy life force transitions into. Perhaps it is a massive disbursement of atoms and light waves, and there are sibling electrons getting tickled in stars hundreds of millions of light years away as well as in the hearts and brains of the ones he touched here.

I like to think that his energy force has seen our tribute to him, seen us taking on learning the lessons he taught, and that we are on our way to accepting his gifts. With that peace and satisfaction, he’s ready to return. His guides are escorting him to the reunion of his spirit group; that group of souls that were sourced at the same time as “he”, that have chosen to incarnate and live these lives together, learning and teaching, serving and receiving. In the distance, he sees these flecks of light that are his companions and guides and mentors. As he approaches, he is embraced by his mom who was once his wife who was once his child who was once his sister who was once his cousin who was once the girl living in the teepee next door. She is right there to greet him, to swirl together in a dance of light and love and brilliance. Joy and happiness, nostalgia and glee.

And then his uncle-in-the-latest-go-’round / father / brother / son / friend / neighbor / acquaintance. And so on and so on.

I like to think that there is a piece of my soul there as well, greeting him and welcoming him back, comfortable in the knowledge that though the physical incarnation I am here — that carbon-and-saline-two-legged-multi-purpose-auto-mobile a portion of my energy resides in — may be grieving his loss down in this temporary physical classroom he just exited, he and I are also together in infinite lightness, teaching each other the lessons we’re learning, sharing memories of the lessons learned before, laughing and singing and moving forward in our journey to experience all that which there is to experience. To report everything we’ve learned back to Source, such that we-who-is-it-who-is-everything deepens our/it’s own understanding of our/itself.

Me on the left, and Anthony on the right, at Youtopia, ~2017

It’s a story, I fully realize and own that. I have let go of the attachment to having a story that I know 100% is “THE TRUTH.” — There is no way for me to ever know that, and it isn’t necessary to me anymore. What’s necessary to me is that I can tell the story and get completely lost in it at the same time, and in that way, appreciate what I have here and now, where I am here and now, who I am here and now, and how it is here and now.

This is a world that only has spaces now, where those spaces once were filled by my brother, my mother, my dog, my uncle. And that is how it is. There is a version of me sitting in a universe with all of them still physically in it. There is a version of me sitting in a universe that is missing them, and many more.

I am not in any of those universes. I am here.

I can be upset that they’re no longer giving me the gift of their physical beings, or I can choose to accept the gifts they gave me while they were here as well as now that they’re gone. It’s difficult to hold both at the same time, and I’m oscillating between the two in the present. And it’s fine. It’s perfect.

How could it be anything other than perfect? This is how it is.