Surrender Is My Friend

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One of my best friend’s ex-husband, Dan, died recently. Friday, January 6th, King’s Day. What a weird way to start a sentence…best friend’s ex-husband! Why not just say, my friend, Dan? Well, that’s a blog for another day!

Dan was an amazing man:  giving, compassionate, caring, thoughtful, a true altruist.  He was only 60 and left behind two children, my god-children, Ivy 16, and Henry 14. I’ve known Dan for almost 20 years. His passing leaves me with a bit of sadness, mindfulness of my importance in others’ lives, and acute cognizance of my own mortality.

I became a mom of two amazing girls in the last two years, probably adding number three later this year, and married the love of my life almost three years ago. My life is full! I experience bliss, joy, child-like wonder, and innocence daily.

  From the not-so-distant past of thinking I would grow old alone to now has been amazing journey. I added connection, surrender, commitment, and innocence to create the life I have today. When I think of my mortality, of leaving my girls in the physical form, I experience fear and sadness.

I want to bargain with god; I want to scream; I want to be in control. Of course, this does not serve me or my family. I cheat those little girls of my presence, of play-time, of me. This costs me happiness, joy, my peace, and their smiling faces.  Surrender is my friend. When I am in the present, am present, I have everything I need—enough love, enough, friends, enough time, enough money, enough, enough, enough—and, way more than enough. #abundance

I get to learn from my friend, Dan. He called his children every day.  Even when Ivy droned on and on about ballet, he listened attentively and did not try to change the subject. He was genuinely interested in whatever interested his daughter. When Henry was having a challenge on the soccer field, Dan listened to and then kicked the ball with his son. Giving of his time, being in service to his children brought him so much joy. This is one of my lessons from Dan’s passing. It just may be the most important.

– Charlotte Bahm

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