Death.
We die. It is the only guarantee that we will have in this lifetime. Why then, are we so afraid of passing? When diving deep, one can find our fear of death at the foundation of all other fears. Our society has led us to believe that death is the end, a place we want to avoid at all cost. Yes, death is dark. Yes, death is a mystery. But isn't it in the darkness that we find the light? And doesn't facing death unveil the truth of the mystery? Logically, it makes sense. But it is usually the heart that needs more convincing than the mind. Human beings fear the unknown. Understandably so. Where we don't know, we don't go.
I feared death as far back as I can remember as a child. Not my own in particular, but of those around me. And when I entered adulthood, the grave anticipation of the day that death would appear in my life still lingered. I had yet to experience the loss of a family member or a friend. My first encounter with death came at the age of 22. I sat in the home of the only grandparent I had ever known, along with his 4 children (including my mother), my father, and my sister. I watched first hand, his soul leave his body. While it was sad to witness the pain his children were experiencing, it was also incredibly endearing. How lucky he was to leave this life surrounded by so much love. And how lucky for his children, and selfishly me too, to be able to bless his life in his last moments. I was shocked that the sadness I felt was more for the people whom he left behind, and not really at the loss of his life. Somehow, he didn't really feel gone. Physically gone yes, but spiritually he felt closer than ever. I was confused by this, and questioned myself for being cold hearted. Why was I not grieving? Why did his death make me feel so serene? They were questions I hadn't answers for at the time.
My second encounter with human loss came with my little brother. 26 short years; a life lost too soon. The pain one endures when losing a sibling is indescribable. and never really given the attention it deserves. Typically, when a life is lost, the sympathy is reflected towards the parents and/or the surviving spouse and children. Never the sibling. They are the ones who are expected to be strong; to support the parents, to support the spouse. Often people ask me, "how are your parents?", never do they ask me, "how are you?". But when a life leaves, one who has been raised with you side by side, a part of you leaves too. A part you can't get back. Ever. And while some may find this a travesty, I've tried to find it a blessing. Because now I know that he is not alone. That all the little pieces of the hearts broken by his death that departed, now travel with him. Where ever that may be. He is the embodiment of our earthly love.
The biggest lesson I took from Jay's flight, is that death is an end but it is not the end. I feel my brother alive around me all the time. Everyday. Do I still miss him? Yes, actually now more than ever. But when I stop and I am quiet, I can hear him in my heart and feel him on my skin. This reminds me that he isn't really gone and that my love didn't die with him. That I get to go right on loving him for the rest of my time here. This makes me happy, this brings me joy. There is a peaceful acceptance that comes with this understanding-and a knowing that death really isn't something to fear. It isn't something to avoid, in fact it should be revered. It too has beauty, when you learn to trust the mystery... When you can not just embrace the reality of the inevitable but welcome it into your heart. And who knows? It may just be the doorway to our most magical journey yet.
beautiful. I too share your present awareness about death, having experienced it as a child with grandfather, uncle, sister and great grandfather. feeling a closeness to you, glad to read your words.
Xo
Speechless… More… Keep it coming… Beautiful… I love you!
Kari, your writing evokes so much emotion! What a talent you have,
sweet daughter.
Yes, you’re right, we do fear death. Do we fear our own death because
we’ll miss our loved ones? What comes after death is a mystery, and in
that mystery we all wonder if we’ll see our loved ones again. So, death
is all about love, is it not?
After Jay died, I went to a support group. Most of the group members
were there because their spouse died; so perhaps this wasn’t the best
support group for me. Seeing their pain made me fear the death of my
spouse; and I got the feeling that I should pull away from love now to
avoid pain in the future.
I am so glad you were present to experience the death of your
grandfather, my father. We had six weeks to prepare for his death, a
death for which he would not acknowledge or accept. Four siblings came
together in love to take care of their 70-year-old father dying of
cancer. We took turns staying at his house so he wouldn’t have to go
into a nursing home; we cooked and cleaned; monitored his medication;
took him to his doctor appointments; and slept at his house until the
day he died. We invited his friends over for a party to honor him while
he was living. And we were all there along with his grandchildren when
his soul left his body. Yes, it was painful to lose him; but the pain
is erased by the gift of love we gave him the last six weeks of his
life.
The death of my mother, your grandmother, was so different. She died
alone in the hospital two days after my 23rd birthday and 11 months
before you were born. We watched her die of cancer at the age of 42.
She went into the hospital in August and died there in October. She
died ALONE. Nobody with her in the hospital to tell her they love her
or nobody there to hold her hand. In the end, she was on so much
morphine for pain, that we couldn’t understand what she was saying.
Sadly, so sadly, I’ll never know the message she tried so hard to
convey to us in those last few days. This evoked anger at those doping
her up with morphine. My mom’s death is about confusion, anger, and
sadness.
I didn’t want my dad to die like my mother. Maybe my mom brought us
together to give our dad the gift of love during his death. I can be at
peace with my father’s death because I was there to help him prepare
and bring love into his life.
The death of my child, your little brother, evokes sadness and anger.
Sad that Jay was alone when he died, just like my mom. Nobody was there
to give their love to him, this child who loved his family so. Anger
that Jay died on a sidewalk in Mexico five hours after the hospital
staff chose to release him against my wishes and gave him a trolley
ticket to his death place. Medical cause of death: pulmonary embolism.
Spiritual death: depression. While I feel like you, Kari, that my love didn’t die with him, the
sadness and anger get in the way. After Jay’s lonely death, his family
and friends came together in love at your home to honor him. Thank you
for that gift, Kari. And thank you to your friends who helped to make
the day a conduit for love. I felt Jay’s presence there with us that
day and it is a special memory of love that I am thankful for.
Mom
That was beautiful Kari…
Beautiful Kari, loving how you can write all your thoughs down so perfectly. Not something I’m good at, but am so happy to read. Thanks for sharing.