December 1, 2022
I recently lost a dear friend right around the 9-year anniversary of my sister’s passing, adding to an already delicate and introspective time for me. This left me deeply reflecting on life, service, death, legacy, and the meaning of it all.
Over the course of the next few emails, I wanted to offer what I’ve come up with from this period of reflection in the hope that some of it resonates with you and invites you into this space of reflection as we approach the winter season.
Parker had an enormously giving and generous spirit, and was a person of lightness and optimism. He was also an amazing writer, and, curiously, wrote about death quite a bit. There have been some beautiful tributes to Parker posted on social media, many of which use his own writings about death. The following words from Parker really struck me:
“We’re a part of everything. Live every day like it’s your last. As for me, I certainly didn’t sign up for the process of gradual decline. I reckon no one does. Whenever death comes, realize that it is a gift. There is always renewal. There is always rebirth.”
After his accident, Parker offered us all a gift through his willingness to transition from this precious life with courage, humility, vulnerability, and faith. He so profoundly exemplified what he wrote about, and this act of service sent a healing ripple backward and forward through time for all of us. As heartbreaking as it is for those of us who miss him every day, I can see that his legacy to us involves the manner of his passing.
Parker’s passing was the day after Don Howard’s birthday. Don Howard was one of my primary teachers on the San Pedro medicine path, who was showcased in the Huachuma documentary that I did with Aubrey, Mitch Schultz, and others. Don Howard passed a couple of years ago, and Parker was his primary apprentice who was essentially going to carry on the lineage and the tradition. They shared an deep interwoven connection, which seems even more apparent looking back on recent events. Their strong connection extended into our larger community, and especially now with Parker having transitioned, continues to weave us all together in ways we can’t even fully see or understand yet.
Another layer to this experience was that I sat in a medicine ceremony on the night of Parker’s accident, two days before the anniversary of my sister’s passing. I felt the culmination of a 9-year cycle with my sister and felt her presence for the first time since her death, renewing our connection in spirit. Before this ceremony, I hadn’t ever felt her essence with me, likely because the wound was so tender that I couldn’t access her.
So it’s interesting that on Parker’s way out, so to speak, which was also two days before the anniversary of my sister’s transition, I had this renewal of a connection with her. I feel there is great significance in the timing of everything that’s happened, even if I can’t fully understand it.
To my brothers and sisters grieving the loss of our dear Parker, or someone else in your life, know that you are held in love and that your tears are our tears as one family. The immense pain that comes with the death of a loved one reminds us how precious life is.
In this letter to grieving parents, Ram Dass talks about allowing the grief to “burn its purifying way to completion,” allowing it to find expression. I find his words deeply moving and resonant for the losses I’ve experienced in my life, and invite you to feel into them as well. As we reflect upon death with the winter season approaching, let’s remind one another how much we matter and how much we care. Renewal is inevitable, and we’re in this together.
To your health,
Dr. Dan
Get healthy. Stay present. Help out.