- Cynthia Coupe
I’m Not Frank.
Updated: Jun 27, 2022
Or am I?
I’ve been living in this liminal idea for a couple of weeks now, ever since I had a dream that transformed my belief about energy.
You see, since Frank died he often shows up as a bird, mainly Osprey, but he’s not limited to that.
So the other night I dreamed I was in my kitchen, and I saw this big Osprey fall from the sky with a hurt wing. Some kind of wildlife person came to help, and I rushed out, certain the bird was Frank.
I ran over to the Osprey, held him in my lap, and cried as I pet his body.
Frank? Is that you?
“Hahah! I’m not Frank” the bird replied.
What? You talk?!!
“Of course I do, what’s Frank?”
Oh, he was my husband that died.
“How would I know Frank?”
Well…he was joyful, big energy, very happy, free and loving.
“Oh!! Yes! I know that energy, I LOVE flying around in that energy…”
Something clicked, and I was transformed.
I realized that what I had previously thought about life after death was different than I was just invited to see. I thought that Frank might transform himself into a bird, or a butterfly, or a whale, whatever he might want to be in that moment.
But…when I expanded my view it made SO MUCH SENSE. Frank is energy, and sometimes different creatures catch it up, which means… so could I.
So maybe I am Frank. Maybe that joyful, loving and bright energy can be me, can be available to me, and I can rise to meet it. I can bask in its embracing beauty and celebrate living with both worlds.
This week, I’m at the Kate Wolf music festival…the Farewell Festival…Frank was supposed to be here with me, we bought one another tickets a couple of years ago, before COVID, and held on to them with glee for the final frolic. We made plans with friends to come and circle up, share camp, bask in the heat, make some music…
I’m carrying out my end of the deal, and though I sold his ticket, I’m sure he’s here too…camping with our peeps...dancing in the magic energy of this festival…swimming in the river…
Earlier today we were talking about Frank, and a big, yellow (one of his favorite colors) butterfly circled around, kissed me on the cheek and took off…
May his energy be big and loving and embracing, and may I be woke enough to witness it, to feel it and to dance alongside it.
I just woke from a nap in the hot pocket of a tent I’m in …I hear music, laughter, beer cans opening, friends reuniting. I shed a few tears. I miss my husband, but I also know he came here alone for many years and loved the fuck out of the festival, so I will to.
I’ll talk to strangers, share smiles. Wear short shorts and tank tops and not give a fuck what I look like. It’s how I feel.
It’s energy, and I’m going to embrace it.
Just as he taught me to, both in his life and in his death.