Remembering & Honoring Casey 15 years into our Non-Physical Relationship

15 years ago today, my childhood best friend Casey died. Her death was shocking, gut-wrenching, unbelievable, confusing and so deeply sad. And her death and our relationship past, present and future has had a huge impact on my path and so it felt right to honor her today by sharing more about her with you. 

Casey was genuinely the most beautiful and brilliantly shining person. In fact, she was born on the Summer Solstice, the brightest day of the year, and it showed. From the first day we met at the first day of kindergarten, there was no doubt that she was genuinely full of life. When I look back on it, I see that she is perhaps some version of a soulmate. We went through a lot of each other’s respective “tough stuff” together growing up. And we had an immense amount of fun together. Many of my favorite childhood memories are with her - often involving creativity, art, dance, swimming, and most of all giggling. It felt like our frequencies somehow resonated with each other on a level that I now appreciate more than I ever did in the moment. 

One of my core memories with Casey was hanging out in her ramshackle barn with her sister Caroline and the three of us were making up a dance to of all songs “Only the Good Die Young” by Billy Joel. To this day, that memory is both comforting and discomforting in its eeriness.  

As a junior in college, a friend died very suddenly and tragically on the day he graduated. As a minister, I now have been gifted the incredible responsibility of accompanying and supporting families after the tragic and complicated death of a young loved one - as they navigate the initial mourning and grief and we find the best way to honor and celebrate their loved one and what it means to the living. So I now have more than a few experiences with young loss like this. Here’s what I’ve found:

There is something to Billy Joel’s song. Much like Casey, these incredible souls shine so bright and it’s almost as if they are cosmic stars shining so bright that their light just burns out quicker. I also would be remiss if I didn’t mention that the volume of their brightness is sometimes accompanied by equally voluminous shadows, so their paths aren’t always the easiest and some of their deaths have been complicated. 

What I believe perhaps more than anything spiritually is that in death, these souls return to their most brilliantly bright shining and loving form. That they are freed of the shadows they may have encountered here and they are their fullest energetic forms. I also believe that our connection to our loved one does not go away when they die - instead it transforms from a physical relationship to an energetic and spiritual relationship. In fact, some people feel closer to their loved one in death than they did in life. That said, it doesn’t make the loss worth it, not even a little bit. And sometimes these beliefs provide solace and sometimes they don’t. 

Those two beliefs, and MANY more of my spiritual beliefs are actually a result of losing Casey and my relationship with her now. Casey died in a very transitional moment of my life - in the midst of a year that I was lost, soul-searching, longing for direction and connection. In fact, we were both going through a lot when she died, and we were supporting each other through it. Somehow, whether it was her or not (I believe it was), I was guided after her death to my next teacher, my next path, and resources that would inform my path forward forever. Again, all more reason it feels like we had a connection that wasn’t just of this life. Specifically, here are a few of the many ways that Casey has informed and shown up on my path over the last 15 years: 

• I became closer with her sister Caroline. In some ways, I felt like us getting much closer again in the last year of her life was possibly so I would be there for Caroline. That relationship and connection has been a gift. 

• Her death made me double down on moving towards a meaningful path, regardless of how “traditional” or “acceptable” it was, which absolutely led to the life I now have and the work I now do. 

• A couple months after her death, I saw Wayne Dyer speak at the retreat center where I was living and he recommended the book “Dying to be Me” by Anita Moorjani. With Casey in mind, I got the book and basically highlighted the whole thing. It explained everything I believed but had never had words for. It has since basically become the closest thing I have to a spiritual text. It also led me to more Near Death Experience accounts that continued to inform and validate my beliefs and understanding of life and death. 

• Casey’s death led to me reconnecting with friends including one that had caused harm in my life when we were younger. That reconnection led to healing for both of us, but also eventually led me to the seminary where I ended up studying. I absolutely think that was Casey’s doing. 

• In my final year of seminary, we were tasked with designing and writing a funeral, ideally for a real person. I chose to write a second death ritual for Casey. One in which those who loved and love her came together to celebrate her, and to honor how her life and death had impacted us, and how she continues to weave through our lives. It was a deeply meaningful experience to write the ceremony. In my research, I decided to listen to an album her husband had written and produced that he thought included lyrics she was essentially channeling to him. I was absolutely gobsmacked to see that the only female vocalist on the album was neighbor, who I had met and befriended when I had moved into my new home six months prior. That cannot be a coincidence.   

• When I was contacted to support a family navigating the incredibly tragic and complicated death of their 19-year old daughter, I immediately felt compelled to support them, and I really wanted them to have the best possible support. I realized that I absolutely was meant to help them when in the initial meeting with the family, the father mentioned Casey’s mother-in-law. I couldn’t believe it. And yet, I could. Casey had clearly had a hand in connecting us. And that Celebration of Life was arguably one of the most important things I’ve ever done in my life and has informed where I am called as a minister now.

Casey has clearly been at work in my life. As part of the eulogy at her funeral, I shared excerpts from the E.E. Cummings poem “I Carry Your Heart” - I committed to carrying her with me. And I physically carry her with me also - “love” written in her beautiful handwriting from a card she sent me about a month before her death is now tattooed on my wrist. Over the years, I have noticed that she is likely carrying me in some way also - that perhaps as much as I was speaking that poem to her, perhaps she speaks it to me too. 

I miss Casey immensely. Of course I still wish she was here. I still sometimes wonder what she would be doing or where she would be if she had lived. And I wonder how my life would be different if she was still here. I still wish I could call her or see her or just know she’s here somewhere. But I do know she’s here, just in a different form. 

Perhaps you are able to relate to this type of loss, this type of grief, this type of connection with a loved one. Whoever and however you have lost loved ones, I hope that you are able to find some connection with them outside of the life we can see and explain. I truly believe there is more. That we are all connected in life and beyond. 

Casey, I love you. I miss you. I am listening. 

i carry your heart with me
i carry it in my heart
i am never without it
anywhere i go you go;

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
here is the root of the root
and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky
of a tree called life
which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide.

And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart.

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

I love you.
Rev. (because of you) Devin Green
The Connected Way™