If what I’m about to say makes perfect sense, then I will
have failed miserably.
On Friday, January 3nd, Becca had gone home for the night, leaving Stick and Toodles with their mother, Boots. Beginning around midnight, both girls heard a voice in the room. Both of them
initially thought the other had spoken. The voice said only one word:
"Mama." It repeated this word four times. To Toodles, it sounded like
Stick. To Stick, it sounded like Toodles. Both daughters denied having spoken.
Both seemed unsettled by the voice. At that moment, a paranormal thought
crossed their minds—was this Barbara?
Barbara, another daughter, more affectionately known as
"Chigger," had passed away many years ago. Yet, her name was one
Boots mentioned frequently; especially when speaking of her transition:
"I want to see my Chigger," she would say.
Martha “Boots” Nelle Sloan was born on August 6, 1937, to
Benjamin and Elise Sloan in Cassville, Georgia.
But right now, I want to focus on Boots and the abrupt way
in which she began her exit from this stage of life. In considering her
transition, I will tell you upfront: I believe she will carry on. If this
thought brings you comfort, then perhaps no further explanation is needed. But
if you wish to hear my reasoning, I will try to provide that as well.
When we speak of a loved one, attempting to tell their
story, we often begin by outlining their origins—where they were born, what day
it was, who their parents were, where they fit into the larger fabric of
society. But can a birthday truly capture a person’s beginning? Imagine,
instead, that we knew more about the day Boots' parents met, long before her
birth. Perhaps we could uncover the precise moment their paths crossed, setting
the stage for her arrival. The story of Boots could begin long before August 6,
1937, or it could start when she, as a young girl, supposedly told a tall,
young stranger to "shut up"—a memory that Wade, her husband, often
recalled. Or maybe, the story could begin even earlier, with her ancestors—the
Sloan and Griffin families.
If this makes it harder for you to find a starting point,
then I’ve achieved what I intended.
The brand-new baby breathed in the warm August air for the
very first time 87 years ago. She cried, missing the comfort of the quiet womb
where she had been moments earlier. At that instant, she had not yet received
the name Martha. She was simply a bundle of energy—a being with potential, just
beginning its journey in the world. In those early moments, it is most likely
that her mother, Elise, welcomed her into the world, holding her in her arms, as
every newborn deserves to be held.
The moment of birth has often been called a miracle. It is
difficult to explain the miracle, yet it remains remarkable and special, even
when we understand the biological processes that bring a child into the world.
In the case of Martha Sloan, that miracle was a tiny bundle of energy—an infant
who would come to be known as Boots.
Let’s talk about that bundle
With two eyes, this bundle of energy began to see the world.
She grew, matured, and eventually married that tall stranger on January 4, 1958.
With arms and hands, she held her own children—her own miracles. And, in the
last few decades, those children had children of their own. Boots, the bundle,
would hold the next generation, and she even held two, great-grandsons, welcoming new miracles into the world.
Boots, the bundle, was once small, weighing only six pounds herself, but it
would grow. It had flowing black hair, dark eyes, and a wonderful personality. Time
inevitably brought change. Boots, like all of us, grew older and wiser, though
not without slowing down. Her body was no longer as charged with energy as it
once had been. However, her mind and imagination remained intact—until just a
few days ago.
Now, back to the mysterious voice
The philosopher Ferdinand Canning Scott Schiller once said
that 1+1=2—unless you’re talking about drops of water. This idea helps me make
sense of the voice that Stick and Toodles heard. In this instance, imagine the
drops of water as a helpful metaphor. Just as a drop is part of the ocean,
Boots, in her passing, is a part of something far greater. Alan Watts once
said, "You are a function of what the whole universe is doing in the same
way that a wave is a function of what the whole ocean is doing." In this way,
I believe Boots has become a part of the vast ocean of experience that
surrounds us.
In that room, within the four walls of the facility, there
were chairs, beds—furniture that grounded them in the physical world. But there
was something else at play in that space. Boots lay on her bed, but her
creative energy was already showing up in new ways. Like a wave crashing, her
soul was expanding beyond the confines of her body.
Boots filled the room, still alive within the eternal soul.
And in this moment, Chigger, her daughter Barbara, had returned. That voice
that Toodles and Stick heard? It was Chigger’s. Not to frighten her sisters,
but to welcome Boots back into the ocean of experience—the same ocean that once
held the energy of all the people we know and love.
As Paul said near the end of his own life, "Even as I
am being poured out, I am glad and I rejoice with you all; you should all be
glad and rejoice with me."
Now, let’s return to Schiller’s words. His intention was to
show how things don’t always reach the logical conclusion one might expect. In
the case of water, a drop is part of the ocean, and the ocean is part of the
drop. In the same way, Boots, whose soul has left her body, is now a part of
the greater whole. She will rejoin the Ocean of existence, where the boundaries
between individual souls blur, and all are interconnected.
On August 6, 1937, the birth of a new wave in the ocean appeared
when Boots was born. But that same day, Ferdinand Schiller, the one who lent me
these ideas, died in Los Angeles. One wave crashed, and another was formed. The
Ocean, forever altered by Boots, continues on, as does the energy that once was
her. 1+1 = 1. Boots is the Ocean. She has been poured out. If she could say
anything to us in this time of grief, I believe she would quote Paul and say, "I
am glad and I rejoice with you all; you should be glad and rejoice with me.”
In Memory of Boots
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