None Shall Sleep – 100th Post
I would like to share what Ken’s pranic healer Hector had to say about his last visit with Ken two days before he passed. He emphasized that it was so peaceful sitting next to Ken and that he required a peaceful setting. He sensed that Ken’s energy was leaving his lower extremities moving up from his legs toward his head. It was very spiritual in that his soul was already preparing to withdraw from the crown of his head and the light and energy was brighter around his head. He also sensed that Ken was aware of those around him and of his surroundings. Ken was sleeping most of the time at this point answering questions with a yes or no.
He saw orange light, his aura, around his arms and legs which was the energy used by the soul to eliminate the body. The orange prana, (cosmic energy believed to come from the sun and connecting the elements of the unierse. The universal principle of energy or force, responsible for the body’s life, heat and maintenance, prana is the sum total of all energy that is manifest in the universe), helped to facilitate the focus on the head area. Ken’s spirit was finding an exit point from his body. Hector explained that Ken is not his body and that his spirit may remain in the house and with me. He said he was at peace and accepting of his current state and what comes next. He felt that he was reflecting, reviewing and spanning his life.
It was very powerful to hear Hector speak about Ken, his energy and soul and what happens next and to hear that Ken was in a good state.
I posted the picture above of Ken leaning over the bridge from our walks in Deepdene. As I walked through the forest today I played the Manowar heavy metal version of Nessun Dorma, the aria from the Puccini opera, on my headphones. Ken listened to this song frequently in the last few months and it was also played at the end of his celebration . I lingered at the spots we shared along the path, the bridge in the picture and the benches where we sat together. Of course, I cried because the song itself is beautiful but also from the memory of hearing Ken play the song, playing it the night before he passed in bed and then again at his celebration. The words are quite meaningful too, translated, None Shall Sleep:
Nobody shall sleep!…
Nobody shall sleep!
Even you, o Princess,
in your cold room,
watch the stars,
that tremble with love and with hope.
But my secret is hidden within me,
my name no one shall know…
On your mouth I will tell it when the light shines.
And my kiss will dissolve the silence that makes you mine!…
(No one will know his name and we must, alas, die.)
Vanish, o night!
Set, stars! Set, stars!
At dawn, I will win! I will win! I will win!
I can only offer much sympathy and empathy. My beautiful wife of 19 years, Ruth died yesterday of GBM after a five year fight. This is the most insidous disease imaginable; I just hope that a cure is out there and that others do not have to go through this. Bill
I’m so sorry Bill and I wholeheartedly agree.
So sorry bill for your loss… I agree there has to be more research into this disease. My husband was a fit and healthy man, I lost him 6 months ago.. He only survived 14 months.. I have followed kens blog all through.. Thank you Tina… Take care bill….
Hey Tina. It’s Kat.
I realize how blessed I’ve been that Ken opened his world up to me and so many others through this blog. Though I never met him, I felt as though I knew him….and I miss him. Having lost my sister to GBM a week after Ken, I understand loss to this monster, though, not the loss of a partner and I can’t imagine your pain. It must feel at times like endless suffering.
I have emails from Ken from March. He was an excellent writer. He was always so positive and bless him, helped a total stranger when he was struck by GBM.
Tina, he loved you so so much. He still loves you. Just talk to him. Talk to him as much as you want to.
My Ant Robbie died of leukemia a couple of years ago. She was my very best friend. After she died, I couldn’t understand how it was even possible. How she could just be gone. How I couldn’t call her anymore. So, I just started talking to her. A lot. A weird times…in the car driving, in the kitchen, seriously, anywhere and the truth is, after a while I swear to you(I’m not crazy I promise) I could hear her talking to me to. I actually learned things after she died that i didn’t know when she was alive. My point is, it’s just a vibrational thing. That and belief. Just believe you can communicate and you will.
I wanted you to know that Ken touched my life and he was so good. I’m a total stranger to your family. But he made a lasting impact.
In reading your posts, you have too.
I had included Mario Lanza’s version of “Nessun Dorma” in a personal playlist of melodies I dedicated to Rusty, because like Ken, it’s beauty and power reminded me so much of him, his courage to stay alive and his ultimate graceful acceptance of his fate. Not one for opera, perhaps Rusty had heard the heavy metal version you speak of, but according to Laura, Rusty’s anthem was “Times Like These” by the Foo Fighters. (It’s times like these you learn to live again, Times like these, time and time again.) I added it to my playlist and now I have another small treasure to help keep alive my precious memories of my son.
I, too, talk to Rusty daily, as though he were near me. I say to you to do whatever brings you comfort and peace. Your plan to establish a daily routine seems helpful and wise. As I see it, a daily routine that includes a short meditation on our loved ones would keep us connected to both the spiritual and physical worlds of which we all are a part, yet allow us to move forward beyond our grief. This is especially important to me, for my greatest fear is that I might eventually stop thinking about Rusty, and it upsets me to think that might even be a possibility. I hope this makes some sense.
Amazing story. Such an inspiration to hear how close you two were and how he was at peace till the very end. Stay strong my friend !
Hi Tina, i have joined you in this journey as Jamie passed away a week ago after 20 months fighting his GBM and 13 years 3 other cancers..my 3 kids and 2 dogs and I were all with him at the end at home…i just dropped my youngest off at university 6 hours away and my older 2 are on the east coast at university so i am really truly an emptynester…he died just 5 days before his 54th birthday…if you continue to update this blog i will continue to follow your journey and use your words to help with mine…thank you again.
Hi Karen, I am so very sorry to hear about Jamie but I’m glad that the whole family was there with him at his passing. I will continue to update the blog and hope that my words can provide some comfort. I need to write a post soon. All my love, Tina.
Hi Karen, I too are with you both on this journey, my husband was 58, he passed in February. I will continue to read this blog as I believe we all need support on this difficult journey. Thank you both….
So sorry for your loss. I followed the blog loosely, but I do feel it was helpful to a lot of people. My son passed away May 11, 2012 from GBM. He was only 18. It is a hideous disease, and I applaud your efforts to help others who are battling.
Dear Tina, I have followed Ken’s and your journey also for the last 6 months or so, and I am so very sorry to read of his death. You both somehow seemed larger than life, and so spirited…. but of course, you are human too. You have been so so so strong!
I nursed my father recently – he died of a GBM grade 4 at home with us on 6th August and it is such a very difficult journey to watch someone you love so dearly lose their capacities one by one knowing that the journey will only get worse and then you will lose them forever. I have a very great respect for you taking time away from your other commitments to be with and love and nurse your Darling Ken for those two years. You have both been so brave and so committed to love. I hope that you trust your own journey now and just take your time to feel and be whatever you need to feel and be. This is your journey and it sounds like until now you have lived it with great passion, integrity and instinct. I understand through my own recent experience how limited the health systems in our ‘modern’ countries can be (I live in Australia) and how connected you would have been to every small nuance of Kens journey over his last few weeks. Your presence would have been the most important thing for Ken, and I have no doubt that you would have given him the very best love, care and support possible.
I don’t mind reading about your pain, your frustration, your loss and your grief. It is real and the journey belongs to you. Live it in your own way and in your own time.
With my sincerest condolences to you Tina.