steadfast and true

a letter to finn, four years later

once a leader, always a leader. the quote i put on your headstone. something you had said once during a personal development training you did years ago. seemed appropriate as you were such a leader in the best of ways.

dear finn,

i know it’s been a while since i wrote to you here, using this formal container to write of my love to you.

i chose this picture because, well, we just finally got your headstone up after almost four years.

i know the timing was perfect. it arrived just two days before your mom’s service.

you can even see the hole where we placed the ceramic stones the green burial service made from her ashes.

she wanted to be cremated. you ended up being buried according to your wishes.

i have spent so much time at your grave. it is such a peaceful place under the flatirons.

i think i may be buried there too one day.

i’m so glad you changed your mind at the end. you had always wanted to be cremated, but then you decided it would be important to have a place we could visit.

such a wise, thoughtful final decision you made.

just like you. you always were so wise and thoughtful.

i was speaking with the management at the cemetery before your mom’s memorial. they want to know if we want to buy more plots.

this led me to contemplating the whole thing, talking to the kids about it.

our son thinks i should be buried like you. there is something beautiful about having your whole body under ground.

and i love that we chose a green burial for you, placing your precious remains only in a box we lovingly painted before laying you in it. that way you go back to the earth in the most natural way, without any of the toxins.

there has been something so comforting about lying spread out on top of your remains when i visit you…

but then i found myself looking forward to the day when i can rest there with you too.

and this feeling brings up bittersweet, mixed emotions, to be honest.

how could i be so looking forward to being done?

it’s just that it’s been a long road of healing from all the things. and it feels like it will be peaceful to finally lie down and fly home.

one fine day when my life is over i’ll fly away… a hymn i have always loved.

it felt so natural to talk to the kids and your sisters about where we want to be placed, whether we want to be buried or cremated.

it made me wonder how death has become so taboo that most never speak of it until the hour is upon them.

and all this got me thinking about your mom’s ceremony.

she didn’t want anyone to speak at her memorial. so we were silent as we placed the ceramic stones into her plot.

and i’ve been pondering how, even though i had a hard time with your mom and her bipolar and narcissistic ways, as did everyone who was ever close to her, i love how soft she became at the end.

i love how i was holding her hand just hours before she passed, how i could feel, with my growing psychic capacities, her fluttering fear as she felt the hour of her death approaching. she couldn’t speak at that point, only lie there with that rasping breathing that happens towards the end.

i remember when you were there too.

we didn’t know she would go just a few hours after we’d all gone home to sleep.

but that night i couldn’t really sleep.

i tossed and turned for hours. and in that early morning quiet, lying in the liminal space between sleep, she came to me so strongly.

she was afraid, and i told her not to worry, for she would be with you, that you were waiting for her, i was sure.

and then, just like that, i felt her woosh away into the great yonder.

i remember how teared up in my half sleep, half wakeful state.

a part of me wanted to go with her. and then i finally fell asleep.

i probably would have forgotten about the whole visit, but i woke up to a phone call from your sister. your mom had indeed passed, right around the time i finally drifted off.

makes me wonder about the nature of life and death, what it means to be a walker of the veil.

ever since you died i feel i live with one foot here and one foot beyond.

your dad has visited me too, from the other side. and i really appreciate how both your parents, from the living realms and from beyond the veils, have always welcomed me and our two girls into the ingalls clan.

especially because we have become estranged from my own family.

finn, i’m so grateful you had a family i could call mine. they weren’t perfect, by any means. none of us are.

but at the end of the day, your mom always told me and my girls that we were family, just like you.

you always loved the girls just like our own two, with such gentleness and steadfastness. that’s why they both legally changed their names to ingalls.

and finn, i have to tell you something else too.

for the first time since you got sick, i have something real to look forward to.

i can feel an appetite for life coming back in me, a hunger i thought i might have buried with you.

and i have to tell you something else too. i am putting myself out there again.

i am moving to seville, applying to a master’s taught all in spanish, in corporate communication and digital media, building something new for myself and the kids.

and since i got my undergrad from the university of padua in italy, it feels like full circle in a way.

i am not accepted yet, and the whole visa and move depends on it, as i put the cart before the horse and rented a house and committed to the kids’ school before realizing the nature of immigrating to spain.

but that’s ok. because i am coming to trust in the process. and trust that all i can do is my part.

effort and grace, two wings of a bird.

sure, i still feel that pull toward peace, toward one day lying down beside you.

but it lives alongside this other thing now, this wanting to live.

i am not in such a hurry anymore.

i am just grateful to feel both at once, the missing you and the wanting more, without one canceling out the other.

life is beginning to feel more solid again. foundations are being laid, just like the solid headstone that now rests where you lie still—

steadfast and true, just like you.

i love you.

always and forever.

venus

---

i am a writer, speaker, and musician devoted to healing and embodiment. i share essays, poetry, and original music through venus consciousness. i’d love to walk this path with you. 💞