My father died around 3:00 on August 12, 2013. He was 61 years old. He lived more in those six decades than most men could in twelve. If life is measured by brightness and intensity – with weak men an ember smoldering on a stick of incense and great men a blaze feeding on a forest – my father was a supernova.
As his light faded, liver and kidneys unable to hold the battlements against the three year siege from Chronic Lymphatic Leukemia, he saw things. Things that some may attribute to heightened brain activity near death, or hallucinations caused by elevated ammonia levels, or delusion caused by prolonged time in the ICU. Things that others may attribute to gods, or the God, or that shining pre-glimpse of the afterlife pointing the way to the next world.
Some of what he saw scared him. Monsters snarling over his head. Some of what he saw angered him. A mocking, morphing clock. Some of what he saw comforted him. His whole family standing next to him, holding his hands.
But the last thing he saw, that he pointed to with bright eyes, his brown shifting from my blue to the empty space behind me in the sterile sadness of the ICU, is what will twinkle in my memory forever.
He saw stars. Galaxies. A whole universe inside of a tiny room.
The first law of thermodynamics says that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred. As we reassured him that he could rest and his pain was over, there came a moment where he ceased to be my father, and became only the body my father had inhabited. The energy of his body will return to the Earth, continuing the cycle of growth and decay, forever part of the beauty that blooms and incredulity of the natural world. But if energy cannot be destroyed, where did his mind go? Where is that brilliant soul so full of passion and compassion that was so much more than the sum of his skin and hair and organs?
My wife and I have discussed the “spark” – the flash in the eyes of someone alive and proud and rhapsodic – and what happens to that energy when it “leaves” a dying body. I’m sure that Heaven or Nirvana or perhaps even Valhalla are popular destinations for the purest of spirits, but I’ve never been the religious type. My love of science and tangible empiricism are directly inherited from my father.
Carl Sagan is often quoted for his nod to the idea of cosmic cohesion: “We are made of star stuff.” He meant that our basic elements – the hydrogen and oxygen and carbon – are the same as those found in the sprawling void. But I take it to mean that we’re all connected to each other in ways we might not understand, that our energies echo on in explicit physical ways, imbued in the things we touch and love, on paths that aren’t necessarily visible or measurable by what we currently know but exist in our reality all the same.
The same day he passed, and all that energy dissipated into unknown space, a new shining spot of light appeared in a previously dark area of space. Just north of the constellation Delphinus, just west of the star Altair, a nova burst into life, flaring with such intensity that it can be seen with the naked eye if you look to the northeast on a clear night.
I’d like to think that his energy was the final push this little binary system needed to blast its light across the limitless distance down into our eyes, into our minds.
I’d like to think he’s forever there, winking and smiling, part of a massive power that while impossibly distant, is right there for me to look at every night.
I’d like to think that the best people go on to be more, their energy taken in death, to be reused in birth.
(A full article about the nova can be found here)
Oliver,
I edited this comment probably more times than your post that sits above it. The core of what I write every time is the same:
You live on as a part of your father, as do your siblings. You have no doubt done him proud and will continue to do so.
Perhaps I’ll go star gazing tonight.
Thanks, Randy.
Wonderful, Excellent! I’ll never look at the stars the same way again, bravo.
Nor will I. Thanks for reading.
Definitely…
Oliver thx for you thought in writing of your fathers last days. I send you my condolences. Diane Kinol Lichvar
Thank you, Diane. You’ve always been a great friend to our family. I truly appreciate your thoughts.
Oliver, this was truly a beautiful piece and tribute to your dad. I feel like adding anything else here will seem trite, because I think your words say all that needs to be said. You have a legion of friends here supporting you if you ever need anything.
Thanks, Phil. I take a little comfort in knowing he echoes on in my words, so I guess I should keep writing them.
Incredible, Oliver. Your father’s light will never go out.
Thanks, Ryan. Even without the light from the star, his jeux de vie is alive and shining in my mom and my sister and me.
I’ve been thinking recently about questions of “being,” and this tribute perfectly captures how I’ve come to view death (and life, I suppose). Thank you for sharing!
You’re welcome. I’m very glad you could take something away from this piece.
I’m sorry for your and your family’s loss but thankful for your talent and inspiration – much of which will always come from your father…
Thank you for your encouragement and kind words. Sometimes when times are dark, even the smallest reminders can make a day a bit brighter.
My mother died on the 14th August some years ago. She had leukemia but also, at the end, many other problems, first of all at her liver. She was fourtyfour.
Last thing she said, before dieing was: life is a bluff.
The image of the Milky Way seems much more comfortable.
I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s hard when they really struggle, and we lose them anyway.
I hope the Milky way is comfortable. Maybe a bit cold, but plenty of room to stretch.
I think, as body and soul separate, the ‘spirit’ becomes more aware of the realities of another world, beyond what we can see and hear in this present physical worlds. Ghosts, spirits, visits by lost ones, demons, angels all attest to a whole other world awaiting us.
Michelle,
I think you nailed my sentiments, almost exactly. I’ve always thought our pragmatic consciousness keeps us chained to this reality (probably subconsciously) and when we’re not so connected, we can “see” more of what’s out there.
I think you get flashes of this when drunk or on drugs, and finally see some other truth when you’re about to not be here anymore.
Thanks for your thoughts, and for reading.
Beautiful star…
Although tears run down my cheeks, I am joyful for your father’s new state of painlessness and expansion, constricted and afflicted no more.
May you have lovely dream-visits soon.
Much love to you, sent upon a chilled San Franciscan breeze.
❤
Such a beautiful tribute. Much love.
Thanks, Megan. The love is reciprocated.
Lovely, Oliver. I am so sad for you, but glad that you are using your writing to process and heal. I agree w/ Michele above – I witnessed this w/ my mother’s passing. Over the last days – and she was on no medication – she saw and spoke to many of her departed friends. Near the end, she said, “Oh what are those beautiful, winged creatures?! Why can’t they be here all the time?” Those words will comfort me for the rest of my life. For all I know, they ARE here all the time, we just can’t see them…yet.
Take care of yourself.
Isn’t it weird? I keep going back on forth on whether it was good for me to be there as he passed, but the more time passes, the better I feel about it.
Beautiful. Touching. This is the second star your father helped bring to life. You were the first. Cheers.
You’re the man, Ed.
Wow Oliver. You mixed you Dad, physics, and the profoundness of life into a single post. I have never thought of it that way… but I have to think he would approve 🙂
Thanks, Brian. I’d hope he’d approve; it’s a culmination of all the stuff he taught me over the years 🙂
i’m sorry for your loss oliver, and happy for the universe’s gain in time memoriam. beautiful ) beth
Thanks, Beth. I appreciate your thoughts.
I just came across this from a Spanish philosopher, Miguel de Unamuno:
“Nothing is lost, nothing wholly passes away, for in some way or another everything is perpetuated; and everything, after passing through time, returns to eternity.”
I totally love this quote. Saving it for a later project. Thanks for being a great writer-friend, Melanie.
This is such a beautiful work, Oliver. I know nothing can be said that can make you feel better-time is the only thing that can do that. Just know we’re here for you. This is an amazing tribute to your father. I wish we had known him better.
Thank you, Maureen. I really appreciate your support. A lot of people say that I’m a near clone of my dad, so if you want to know him, I guess you should get to know me 🙂
He lives on …. in you …. and in the stars.
Sincere condolences on your loss.
Thank you, Annie. He will live on, shining bright.
Oliver, although I am a hard core materialist, I love this post for its questioning, energy and beauty. It is amazing you have the strength to write anything after what you’ve been through. Thanks for sharing, man.
Writing is the only thing I know how to do when I’m upset. I guess it’s a linguistic defense mechanism.
Thanks for reading, and caring.
I think…I think your father’s energy may still be buzzing around you. Take care.
I think so, too. It’s like that feeling that someone is watching you, but with none of the anxiety.
I am so sorry for your loss. I lost my mother 2 years ago, and I still struggle to comprehend where she went. Religion is not for me, and I do not want to believe that her spirit died when she did. Reading this has given me something else to consider. Whilst our world is small, the Universe is without limits. It’s reassuring to think that, as her light was extinguished, another burst to life as she left. Thank you for posting at what must be a very difficult time. x
You and I are of similar mind. Religion is too tidy for me, but the answer to such a huge question is almost by definition unknowable by any school of thought. If our realities are what we perceive and believe, then believing their energy went on to be used elsewhere is totally legitimate.
This is a lovely tribute to your dad. My pop passed about 3 years ago, he too saw galaxies and universes before death and described them to us. Here is to these truly great men who are too big and too great to be just a part of this world and belong in the stars.
Well said, Megan. That about sums up how I feel. His power couldn’t be fettered by a single little planet. He needed (and deserved) a universe to roam.
Oliver- I’m so sorry for your loss…my condolences…
Thank you, Nilgun.
After I read this line, “My love of science and tangible empiricism are directly inherited from my father,” I couldn’t help but think, And perhaps you also inherited a hell of a way with words. Beautifully written, Oliver. So sorry for your loss.
Thanks, Tammy. It was actually my dad who got me to fall in love with words, so in a way, you’re right.
I’d like to think, no, I know that the energy and wit and brilliance that was John Gray reside within you and will be reused every day of your life. Your writing is evidence of this. I was so moved by what you wrote. Barry and I both feel privileged to have known your dad and are so saddened by his death.
I know I haven’t seen you in a long time, Karen, but I truly appreciate your love and support. Thanks for the kind words. I have a hell of a personality to live up to, and a pretty big pair of shoes to fill. Good thing he trained me well.
So very sorry for your loss. Your words are a lovely combination of science, spirit and love.
Thank you. That’s a good combination for how I feel, too.
thanks
You’re welcome.
You know, i didn’t think all this scientifically about my father, but i too have always believed he is a star now. He passed away about 10 years back. We were quite tender then. I’d always look into the skies, find a shining star and think that it was him. I still get my strength from that vision.
There are so many stars out there, so many questions and wonders, that I think it’s very possible we’re close to some kind of truth. We’ll never know, but if we believe, that’s just as good.
Wonderful combination of faith & science !!
Thank you.
I feel the same way. I am 67 and blog to leave behind my legacy. True I may live a long time more but some of what I have done and the experiences I have had should be written down. I hope that someone will read them and it will help them. On my headstone or written in the sand should be the word TEACHER for I spent forty years in the classroom and by all accounts was half way decent. Anyway to be associated with teaching puts me with Jesus, Mohammed, Aristole and Plato. I am sure your dad is part of a star or even better yet a comet. He sounds more like a traveler and therefore moving seems more like he was.
He was a traveler, so maybe you’re onto something with the comet. I just hope he’s having fun. That’s what he would have wanted.
This gave me goosebumps. I love this idea. All the best to your family in this difficult time.
Thank you for your words and support.
This is beautiful and I choose to believe it everyday.
Me too.
May his memory be a blessing to you!!! Awesome blog. So sorry his life was so short. http://www.segmation.wordpress.com
It seems unfair now, but 61 is a solid chunk of years, and he left very little undone. He always said he’d make a horrible old man, anyway.
Tis true!
I appreciated this very much. I don’t think your father, though, had anything to do with the star, and it doesn’t seem to me you really think so either. As you say, you inherited from your father your love of science and empiricism. I agree more with what you say about our being connected to and living on “in the things we touch and love.” He clearly touched you and many others, and then the many, many others he may not have even been aware of, and then all those who are touched by you and by all of those others. A vast interconnection more among living things than in the stars.
Your post gave me chills. My beloved dad died 22 years ago and I still look up at the stars and feel my dad there, his spirit twinkling. Energy is never lost, just transformed. I firmly believe my dad’s energy is still out there, just in a different capacity than what we experience in this dimension. And that we are all very tightly connected in a huge complex energy matrix of sorts. I am sorry you lost your dad. Thank you for sharing such eloquent words and thoughts.
It’s an incredibly potent form of comfort to know that the energy who made the person you loved still exists, and in ways, still touches you daily. Thanks for reading.
Beautiful. And true. We all return to where we came from; he’s probably the brightest start you can see right now.
I have yet to look up into the sky since his passing without seeing a very bright star. It’s weird and awesome.
Reblogged this on damsel in dreamland and commented:
Exceptional writing skill. May your dad’s light shine brightly inside you forever. God bless! =)
Thanks for the reblog.
Thank you very much! That’s all I can say…
Reblogged this on victormiguelvelasquez.
Thank you for reblogging.
I want to say I’m sorry for you loss (I am), but at the same time, it seems as though nothing was lost; just changed. Wherever your father is, out among the stars, I’m sure it’s just wonderful, because the universe is wonderful and beautiful.
The more distance I get from the event, the more I believe exactly that: we haven’t lost him, he’s just in a different form now. It’s an odd adjustment period, as we were so used to him as he was before, but we’ll get used to him like this, too.
I’m sorry for your lose. I myself lost my dad when he was only 40 years old. Your view on things really hit home. Beautifully written and thank you for sharing.
Thank you for reading.
Hi Im From South AFrica, Sympathies for your loss. Life is such, we all have one equal opportunity to live our life the best way possible..
This statement you made, “A whole universe inside of a tiny room.”… WOW!!!
When we look up into the skies, its endless and still expanding and thats what we know as our known universe, and you got me thinking , All we human beings know of the known universe is just in one of GOD’s Tiny Rooms Somewhere in the expansion of space without time..
Your a great writer, aStRoFUNK SouthAFrica..We GLOWinTHEdark….
Thanks, Astro. I think you’re onto something there; we’re so tiny but think we’re so big. There are probably explanations that we’re never even supposed to know. It’s humbling and gives me comfort to know we don’t always need to have an answer to everything.
A factoid for your consumption:
There are 10^80 atoms in the universe, roughly. That’s a 1 followed by 80 zeroes. It’s a big number, but it’s not a patch on another one:
There are 10^11 neurons in the human skull. Assuming each of these can be in an on or off state, that means there are 2^(10^11) possible human states of mind. That’s more or less a number with at least 10^11 zeroes after it, not a piddling 80 zeroes. That is enough not only for a universe, but for universes of universes, all housed within our tiny little skulls. A universe in a room, universes or universes in our brains — your dad’s included.
I lost my dad when he was only 58, and I was only 21 (almost). I miss him every day of my life, and I’m endlessly glad that I’m half him. He’s not here anymore, but half of him is, three times over. You have my sympathies. You’ll never forget him — he’s embedded in you.
113,
Wonderful that you posted this reply. I find it fascinating that our brains house that many neurons. And I believe it. The known universe and the human brain, two barely understood realms of limitless energy.
GA
Mind = blown. Thanks for this awesome piece of information. I really do feel like he’s a physical part of me: Every time I do something he taught me, he’s right there in my hands and my brain and my heart.
I lost my Mother, Phyllis Haynes, in 2001. It is one of the most painful things to happen to an individual was the loss of their parent; mentor; confidante;disciplinarian; and teacher. My mother was a unique human as was your dad. It is not beyond comprehension to see the transformation of energy before your eyes. I am a Marine and former medic who witnessed many a soul come to the closure of this life form. Ever person I witnessed passing over shared a common denominator; they left others behind on their journey that loved them dearly. Living souls who have precious memories that are etched in the mind forever, and should be a sacred gift to value above all things. Where ever we come from, or go to, is subject to opinion; and is really beyond comprehension of a mortal man or woman. Be thankful for the gift of life, make each day count, and don’t forget to tell those you love, how much they mean to you; often. It is a short adventure for all of us, and where the next journey begins is a mysterious question everyone ponders at times throughout life. I am sorry for your loss of your Father; he sounded like a great man as was the beautiful Mother that God blessed me with.
Great points, and that you for your insight. I am thankful I had 27 years with so great a man, and my wish for more is just selfish 🙂
Thanks for reading.
Reblogged this on pessimist meets optimist.
I’m sorry for your loss. This was a great read and a heartfelt perspective. It’s obvious how much you loved your father and I’m glad that you have a shining star in the sky to remind you of him often. I hope that this helps you through the difficult moments. Thanks for sharing this.
We should exchange ideas of physics and metal thought I would love to pick your brain for beautiful information please check my sight! 🙂
“But the last thing he saw, that he pointed to with bright eyes is what will twinkle in my memory forever.” and that’s the truth as his energy may have gone to you. he will forever live in your memory and shine your life even when you find it is dark.
powerful post.
Dear Oliver Gray,
I was searching for more extraordinary content for my web site called Totally Inspired Mind. I must say you have a “totally inspired mind” and your dad must have been an incredible person, but that goes without saying just in the way you wrote about him and his life and transformation from his earthly body to a super nova.
My dad died last September and I often think of him as looking down from the heavens influencing me now in sales & marketing (since he was a salesman) and cheering me on.
I am sharing your amazing words with my 200 plus followers on the site. I know you will transform many people’s grief into a new, fresh way of thinking about what happens in the after life.
Paulette Le Pore Motzko
http://www.TotallyInspiredPC.wordpress.com
Reblogged this on Totally Inspired Mind-Where Positive Minds Congregate and commented:
Oliver Gray’s extraordinary perspective on his dad’s passing and transformation into the heavens will change your viewpoint on the after life. I know his words gave hope and serenity to many who read it on his blog “Literature and Libation”.
Paulette Le Pore Motzko
I’m sorry for your loss. Such a beautiful piece you wrote.
This is utterly beautiful (:
Seeing as we see eye to eye on the fact that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s drawn to this explanation of life. 🙂
May your father’s soul rest in peace.
Beauty in its truthful form. I believe we share same ideas on life and death. Thank you for this article. It surely has brightened my day with your light. 🙂
Great, touching read!
Congrats on getting pressed!
I’m so sorry for your loss.
I once read a book series, ‘His Dark Materials’ where the dead went to the afterlife and then passed through a sort of window into our world where their energy and particles were given back to nature, to become one with the world again, and the people were happy. I think that’s what you’re getting at, and I too like to think that we pass on to become part of this beautiful planet – or universe – again.
Thank you so much for this stunningly moving post.
A beautiful post Oliver. It inspired me to keep writing my blog, but more importantly, to remember my loved ones that have passed. Looking to the night sky is the greatest way I can remember my father as well. He died in December 2011 and we were all touched by his life in many ways. My brother had revisited a special conversation they’d shared about the Universe and “Star Stuff” at his funeral. Our Dad said we should look for him in the night sky in the years to come after his death.
What’s great about your post is the way it inspired so many to reflect on the deaths of their loved ones as well. You clearly touched many.
GA
Beautiful! Beautiful! Beautiful!
Beautiful, Oliver; but then again, no surprise, coming from you. I believe that we only know and understand a fraction of what this life is all about; and that one day we’ll look back from another space and say “Oh…..now I get it!” I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not “hearing” from your father in many ways….in the years to come.
Thanks for writing this. It makes me feel hopeful.
The very definition of beautiful. Thank you for sharing. I too have a close relationship with Dad and it tugs on every emotion when this life experience happens to people. I think he is proud to have such a wonderful son and writer to leave his name in such high honor.
A beautiful tribute!
wow Oliver,lovely tribute to your father.Its helped me take a different perspective on my fatherd death,Thank you.
loopy
scientific rationalism with a reasonable touch of mysticism, gathering knowledge about this pretty sad phenomenon from the authentic writings of saints in my case yogis and sufis give me courage and hope for my future confrontation,my mother passed away last year,we were quite often separated by long distance and too late I found myself not having given the proper love a son should give as gratitude for gift of life, and as my mentor kabir says the fruits once fallen from the branches does not reattache again so he says does not waste this precious life plus his view on how to proceed in the best manner one of his important point is to get rid of doubts
once you know the way you want to walk sant kabir das a name to reckon with no religiosity
no sectarian hocus pocus no special dress no going to temples or churches I like immediately
his boldness, the muscly message, his fearlessness for chocking, the tremendous effort he put in trying to wake up people since we are all mostly tending to doze of in fake sense of security till of course departure time which seems to awake suddenly so many things we keep forgetting daily
funny enough one his famous line is totally familiar in the western family advice not not put back to tomorrow what you can do today till now its more or less what I have been doing guess
its ingrain in human nature we cant help thinking that what happens to others we shall be clever to avoid false hope having been the driving force in human nature
That’s a very soothing and peaceful story for some reason. Here’s a beautiful Indian folk story along the same lines: http://www.longlongtimeago.com/llta_myths_dhruv_page04.html
I was also with my father as he glimpsed the world beyond and became impatient to be there. “What’s taking so long?” he asked more than once through that long last night of his life. Just before his spirit left his body (and both my sister-in-law and I felt it, even though his heart continued to beat a few hours more and he breathed more slowly each of those hours) he sat straight up, stared out into that space beyond our shoulders, and looked hopeful as he looked back at each of us and we told him to fly away. It was intense, but I am so glad I was with him. What a beautiful tribute to your dad and a wonderful way to view where that spark has gone!
I dare guess that your light burns as bright as your fathers and that he remains forever proud.
My father died eight years ago, and yet I always look for him in the stars and feel closest to him under the night sky.
I feel you..my father died for of July weekend of stage 4 Bladder cancer… I fear I will forget his face so I surround myself with lovely photos
What a lovely tribute
The transition from one existence to another is so much harder on the ones left behind. Fortunately, with all being connected, reuniting is inevitable! Wonderful account! Thanks, A
I come back and read this peace again and again. My favourite one by yours. ❤
-P
Fantastically beautiful. I’m very sorry for your loss but I’d like to think your father and all of those who’ve died carry on somewhere.
Oliver, this is beautiful and strong and shining. Like your father. Like you. My sympathies to you and to your family.
Love the last line…
it is showing beauty
I too lost my Dad last December, strangely enough on the Catholic feast day of the Immaculate Conception, a Saturday night, just after hanging a Madonna/ child image window piece. My condolences to you; the stars are a strong argument for a Creator and existential eternity. But they too birth and die, like rocks and autumn leaves-changing form, but not substance/ matter. Death must be a like a graduation to angelic form, unseen light all around us? Yes I like science too, but faith is belief of the unseen. Thanks for the search.
This is truly an amazing piece and a great dedication to your father. I hope he has found peace and looks upon you.
“The energy of his body will return to the Earth, continuing the cycle of growth and decay, forever part of the beauty that blooms and incredulity of the natural world. But if energy cannot be destroyed, where did his mind go?”
Beautiful.
Dear Oliver,
I guess the brightness in your father’s eyes were not only because he found his wide majestic space for after life but also because he realised that it would prompt you to deliver his feelings and energy through your “linguistic defence mechanism”… You got such writing skills capable of making your dad proud and also he will actually be feeling your emotions forever… :).
Beautifully written tribute. Very profound. ..suffering is the cause by which we open the confines of the fragile human mind to be open and ask WOW . the God of religion is boring and so chained by his own books but everyday the God of personal faith (inherently is there and only accessed by imagination and observation of environment.) astounds me by guiding me to such articles just because I said or prayed to teach me..and so the journey continues today from the 25th December 2018 and onwards to the beauty that sorrounds and comforts us every night. Thank you for this. P.’s I don’t know you but you must be a good man as you have friends on this forum who say it so. Be well and thanks again.