1:47 p.m.
One of the most difficult things is to know that the journey has ended, since the next step is letting go of what became known, comfortable, and supportive regardless how challenging and painful and terrifying it was. In some ways, with time it became familiar.
Living in ambiguity is not easy. What, where, how? Why? . . . Right? . . . I know . . .
This notebook, my travel journal, is almost out of pages, yet I keep writing and writing and writing and focusing on finishing this part. My son already told me that this Journey is coming to an end.
Recently I too started to see a new vision. A new reality—the vision of a ship. This new vision replaced the vision of me walking through the Desert of Death, which I had seen and lived in right after my son shifted . . . 54 moons ago. 
In the Desert of Death, I survived and witnessed 54 full moons. 54 moons saw me. They watched me. They shared their light with me. The light that they reflected from the sun.
In this new vision, in this new alternative reality . . . that looks cinematographic, as if I am inside a movie but able to watch myself too . . . we as a family are all on a new voyage.
Being all together on the ship. On that ship, our son as the helmsman maintains a course that is set for us as a family while each of us attends to our daily needs and routines to maintain the ship in tip-top shape.I can clearly see him standing on the bridge. I watch him maintaining the communication with the “Officer” in charge. I know that he is going to keep the navigation of our vessel steady and safe. Who else can I trust, if not my son?
Sometimes I can hear him repeating a command that is given to him. Sometimes I understand what it means; most of the time, I don’t. He watches the open waters, and sometimes I see him focusing on a gyrocompass and other devices and then back to watching the waters.
Is this journey in the open sea the next stage after crossing the Desert of Death?
Am I done with crossing the Desert? Is my family done with crossing the Desert?
Did I complete the task? Did I pass the test? Why did my vision change? Why did I no longer see the Desert of Death?
While I was alone with my son in the Desert of Death, here, we are all together on this voyage. Then why am I scared? Did I become so
comfortable with the Desert of Death that the open sea is terrifying for me now?
The truth is that in the open sea, there is no place to hide. There are no caves. There are no boulders. And if you want to be alone in the Desert, you can be alone as alone as you wish. Just sit in your cave and be done with it
But the sea is alive. It’s open. It breathes and moves. And on the deck of the ship we are all together. We are all sharing the same vessel. If the ship goes down, we are all going down. We all have to fight together for our life.
So the sea is calling me. My son is the steering wheel forging ahead. I have to go. I have to go now.
I shared with you the best of what was given to me and the best way I could. Now, I can only hope that it will help you too as it helped us.
Where are we going? Where is he taking me, us?
Is the destination important? Not for me as long as my son is showing the way.
In the end, the only Journey there is, is our Journey Home. The end. En Sof.*
* En Sof (Hebrew) – Meaning “No End,” “Eternity”