Melissa

Melissa. You left us, going beyond, leaving your body in New Zealand, leaving your battle with acute myeloid leukemia and aplastic anaemia, a battle that could have taken you away long ago. though I feel you close to me, to us. I see you seated on the steps of the student housing coop apartments at Berkeley with your green hair, yelling at the people on the street passing by, laughing with abandon. in a city like that, full of ex-hippies and counterculture, it’s impossible to seem too strange, and you took advantage of the situation to be fully yourself, in that moment, wild, vivacious, a demonstration of freedom.

I see you. I remember. when you were in the hospital again for the umpteenth time and Gina and I came into your room, close to you, and you were lying down, slightly propped up by the angle of the mechanical bed. unconscious almost, and for lack of other methods, we chanted the Heart Sutra zen buddhist prayer in Japanese, in a whisper, surrounding you with vibrations of love, healing, hope. you taught me many things, that you don’t just need white blood cells to survive, to live, the count was down to 17 when it should have been 1000, but you need will, determination, you need to decide: I am alive, now and always, and anyhow, I am moving forward with my life, and illness has nothing to do with it. and the doctor has nothing to do with it, the one who came in while we were doing meditative breathing to tell you that you need to have your spleen surgically removed.

sweet sister. you spoke to me about pranotherapy and spiritual healing before I knew one adonaj-ba or chakra from the next, planting a seed that flourished in the desert, hands of the healer, ignited. and now you are free from physical form, and I heal you through others. I keep the fire lit and warm. the fire of action, intention, beyond all the weight, all the resistance of the world, because it made a difference to you. I know because after years of distance, you unexpectedly called me from the airport in France to tell me, remind me. I am grateful for you, Melissa. may your flight with luminous wings lead you to the sun.

Melissa. Ci hai lasciato, andando oltre, lasciando il corpo in Nuova Zelanda…

lasciando la tua battaglia con leucemia, una lotta che da tempo ti doveva portare via. ma ti sento vicino a me. Ti vedo seduta sulla scala della nostra cooperativa-studentesca a Berkeley, con i tuoi cappelli verdi, gridando alle persone che passavano per strada in quella città piena di exfreakettoni e counterculture, ridendo con abbandono, pienamente te stessa, in quel momento: selvaggia, vivace, una dimostrazione di libertà.

Ti vedo. Mi ricordo. Quando eri in ospedale per l’ennesima volta e Gina e io siamo arrivate nella tua stanza, ci siamo avvicinate a te – tu eri inconscia quasi, e per mancanza di altri strumenti, ti abbiamo cantato la ‘sutra del cuore’ zen buddista in giapponese, sottovoce, coccolandoti con vibrazioni d’amore, guarigione, speranza. Mi hai insegnato tante cose, che non ci vogliono solo i globuli bianchi per sopravvivere, per vivere, il conto sceso a 17 quando ce ne volevano 1000, ma ci vuole la volontà, la grinta, la decisione che io vivo ora, adesso e sempre, e comunque vado avanti con la mia vita, e non c’entra niente la malattia.

Dolce sorella. Mi hai parlato di pranoterapia e guarigione spirituale prima che avessi potuto riconoscere un adonajba dall’ altro, piantando un seme che ha poi fiorito nel deserto, mani di guaritrice, accese. E adesso ti sei liberata dal fisico… tengo il fuoco acceso e caldo per te. Azione, intenzione, aldilà di tutti i pesi, di tutte le resistenze del mondo, perché ti ha fatto la differenza. Alla fine. Lo so perché dopo anni di distanza mi hai chiamato inaspettatamente quella volta dall’aeroporto in Francia per dirmelo, per ricordarmi. Ti sono grata. Melissa. Che il tuo volo con ali luminose ti porti al sole.

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