This post is for all who haven't heard that my father passed away this year (i am fully aware that many of you didn't even know him).
His passing was as perfect as it could have been, he was smiling and joking until the very last hours.
This is a letter that i wrote in January, but hadn't been ready to share it with everyone.
Any thoughts/inspirations/advice are openly welcome.

May his journey be blessed:

"Sunday night was the most beautiful night of my life. I have never experienced a death before, and after that night, I think that perhaps i understand life a little more than i did before.

It was so incredible.....just to be able to be here, to hold his hand, and to help him leave his body. I am so grateful that we could accommodate him here at home, i can't imagine what it would have been like in a hospital. He was in the most beautiful room in our house, the sun room, which is a cedar a-frame structure with vaulted ceilings and huge windows all around....the trees surrounded us like a nest. Everything was bathed in the brightest moonlight. It was perfect. The minute i realized that he had left his body, I felt the most intense energy rush up from underneath me, and my body felt weightless. When i saw his face, all i could do was smile and put my head on his chest. I felt the most profound sense of relief and joy, mixed with pangs of intense grief. But ultimately what i felt was joy, so thankful that he could finally be free of his body, so light, so incredibly free, soaring the web with the great spirit. He has gone home. I am so relieved that he finally allowed himself to let go, it has been such a long struggle. I remember every moment of that day and afterwards in precise detail. I remember exactly what i was doing the moment i found out he had passed. There was no thought, only feeling. Only a presence of mind, time stopped, there was nothing else but feeling and sensing. No other experience has brought me to this place as quickly as death.

Earlier in the afternoon before he passed, i sat with him alone for a very long time....he was in a trance like state, so we weren't talking. I put my hand on the top of his head and opened up the channel within myself so that i could create a link between us. After a while my hand was burning hot, so much energy was passing between him and i.....and after a few minutes, i started doing something that one of my teachers taught me when i was in the states, a kind of energetic "unwinding", creating spaciousness within his body so that it would be easier for his spirit to leave. I helped him "unwind" the cord, so to speak. And after about half an hour of doing this, i knew that he was going to pass shortly after. At one point yesterday, he said to us, "there's someone outside". We looked outside and said, "no, no-one's there." He then replied, "Yes, someone's there." There wasn't a hint of doubt in his voice. I looked at the cat sitting on the windowsill and she was staring intensely at the same spot outside, you know the kind of look a cat gives their prey? I went over to her and tried to see what she was seeing, nothing was visible to me, but i knew that "someone" or some "thing" had come to accompany my father on his journey. My mom told me today that my dad had known that there was someone outside for many days. He was also seeing things in the room that none of us could see. Well, except for the cat. Late last night, Simon brought the cat into the room where my dad's body was and the cat made the strangest sound i have ever heard! Followed by the loudest purring! She jumped up onto his body and laid on my dad's chest....meanwhile looking frantically around the room, especially at the ceiling. Yes, these creatures are indeed more magical than we can comprehend.

I am learning to be at peace with this sense of loss, and i ultimately know that he is still here, playing in the treetops, swirling around in the alpine wilderness in the form of wind. The lessons that he taught me will remain unparalleled, and for this i have nothing but the deepest of gratitude. All i can do is listen, breathe, accept. "


Allan Drury
June 18, 1940 - January 20, 2008