Remembering My Brother - Floyd Hand RIP

Last night I received a phone call from an unrecognized number, so I passed it on to Google Screen which screens calls. It turned out my sister-from-a-different-mother in Washington state was phoning me from her work, so I immediately texted her back. I rarely hear from her directly, so I knew something was up. She told me that our brother, mentor, teacher, friend ... so many other terms ... had died. I knew he was in bad shape. A lifelong diabetic as many Native Americans are, he had never taken the care for himself that the disease requires. The last I heard about him was early this summer when a mutual friend told me he was in the VA care facility in Rapid City, South Dakota, having lost his feet and hands to the disease. 

Floyd Hand was a healer and Spiritual Leader of the Lakota
Sioux tribe. He was 80 years old. We almost shared a birthday -
born within a few days of each other, several years apart. He
was my brother and friend and I knew him and loved him for
many, many years. 

I had last heard from Floyd out of the blue in the spring when he phoned me at the shop. It shocked me a bit, since I hadn't heard from him for more than ten years. Floyd Hand walked the Red Road. He was a spiritual adviser, "medicine man" and Sun Dance Leader for the Lakota people in Pine Ridge, South Dakota, and taught spiritual workshops throughout the nation. He traveled widely and touched the lives of thousands of people. 

I knew Floyd shortly before his book was published. At
that time he was still living in the Minneapolis/St Paul
area and working with the local people here as well
as on Prairie Island. His spirituality was inclusive -
all were welcome and many different faiths were
intermingled into a Lakota framework. 

I got to know him first through my shop. At the time I met him I was in my old location, just a few blocks from where he was living. He came in to get to know us since we were involved in the Native American community, and invited me to a sweat lodge the next day. A few months later, DH and I and a small caravan of people followed him, driving out to Pine Ridge, SD for the 100th anniversary of the Wounded Knee massacre. That's where I first met my Grandmother - Zona Fills the Pipe. I was pulled into a new family and visited, worked alongside, and celebrated with them for more than a decade. 

He held workshops and conducted sweat lodges
throughout the nation, from the Carolinas to
Hawaii. He traveled extensively and I never saw
him turn anyone down who was looking for help.
His door was always open, food was always offered,
and he listened and tried to help. 

Why we pulled apart is totally on me - it was my decision and I don't really regret it. But I did pull away from the weekly rituals, sweat lodges, healing ceremonies and other events, mostly because work was interfering, but also for personal reasons. But I worked with Floyd Hand in Lakota spirituality for more than a decade and have always considered him my older brother. 

So, my older brother died last night. I'm totally on the fence about whether or not I'll go back to the Reservation for his funeral. I know my sister and her husband will be there, and I'm quite sure I'll know others attending from throughout the nation, but I'll have to make up my mind when my sister tells me the schedule. I have a speaking engagement on Sunday, one that I committed to months ago, and can't miss that, there are also some things happening at work that require me to be present. Once again, I am pulled in two different directions because of this man - this brother - this mentor - this friend. 

I'm happy you're out of pain, my brother. I'm happy you've been able to join Unci and others, and rejoin Ellie, the true love of your life. Rest in peace.