They say losses, deaths, comes in threes. And this year 2022 was marred by open wounds of loss.
One, by a wound I didn’t realized I carried for too long - of a best friend lost, whose listening ear and comforting words I missed and longed for through troubled times. Two, by a sudden blow that was long time coming, but I didn’t even see - of a beloved fur companion and dog son, Obi Juan, gone forever in earthly death. Three, by a death by a thousand cuts over decades, cloaked in living a life that “should be” lived - of myself.
Loss is a vacuum that sucks you into its path, drawing you deep into its depths, unable to see anything else but darkness. But many times, we forget the vacuum is such as there is a loss of space that is now very much open, free and ready to be filled.
This made me think of the moving on, forwards and onwards card of the Minor Arcana, the Eight of Cups.
In the traditional Rider Waite-Smith deck, a cloaked person, holding a walking stick, starts a climb into a trail through two hills separated by a river, in the darkness, illuminated by the moon, whose lips austere, covering most of the sun, leaving a sliver of light peering behind. He leaves behind a perfect - nothing spilt nor ruined - two-layered stack of eight cups. The Cups, the suit representing emotions and our relationships with others. The Eight, a symbol of forever, a cycle of achievement, as well as giving and taking.
When one pulls this card, it is calls for change, leaving behind of everything that you’ve built. One’s work is simply done and it is time to move on to higher ground, the next big thing and look down at what you’ve left behind, how it’s served its purpose in lifting you up.
I found myself going through the scant pile of photographs from my childhood and teens sent by family, gazing into my former self, of the life I lived in the Philippines. It was a time when not everything could be captured on film. The technology - 12, 24 or 36 shots per film roll - and costs of developing film then restrictive. But each dull and faded photo conjured up vivid, high-definition memories with details as granular, feelings as sharp, cutting through tender flesh and hardened bone. I’d swiped through thousands of Obi’s photos and videos through the over seven years with us. I was transported to all our adventures together from the small, regular everyday moments to the grand road trips across the country.
In my recent return to the motherland, I came face to face with my old self - places and things, my family, friends and colleagues turned friends. I stared through a looking glass where I recognized myself and yet it was not the me that I knew. Ten years after I left, life outside the Philippines - in the Middle East and the US, changed me into someone I never imagined, hardened by seeing my Filipino-ness onto the global stage, removed from everything I knew and held on to for support, and yet softened by this very same experience.
I never heard back from my best friend when I told him I was back, hoping we’d see each other again and catch up after over a decade. It was the nail on the coffin of a friendship that I held too close to my heart. I never sent Obi to boarding before we flew out as there was nobody, but a cedar chest of fur and ashes; only Obi, the beanie baby that I stuffed inside my carry on to go on a trip to meet my family and see my homeland. I never saw my old self again because she died and now is rising from the ashes.
Moving on is not forgetting. One never forgets as memories are etched, forged into even the hardest of hearts. Rather, these memories are already in us, which we carry for the rest of our waking lives and use as nuggets of lessons and inspiration for what’s ahead.
The vacuum of loss may have taken, but it has also given back so much more. The void is now filled and overflowing.
With the end of a single friendship, my eyes were opened to how many other friends I’ve always had by my side, yet lost sight of and now regained. With the death of Obi, perhaps one day, that gape in my heart would be ready to be filled again by unconditional love only a dog can give. With the retreat into my old self, I saw my power, fire and gracious kindness and how it echoes through others to take into the new year ahead and beyond.
Thank you to each and every one of you who’s been in my orbit.
Hope that the rest of the days bring you time for reflection of the year that was and intention setting for the year to come. May you have peace with the past and hope for the better future. Happy New Year!
Read up on other tarot card reflections from past essays here:
Major Arcana
Minor Arcana
Wands
Cups
Swords
Pentacles