Letting Go of the Ground We Stand On

Allyson said that mom introduced her to Janie tonight.  Mom has been in Hospice since May and has, as they used to say on the farm, "taken to her bed," since July.  There is no one that we can see in her room, but she is talking and visiting away in there, all night long, most nights.

There have been days, many of them, where it seems that she is passing right on throught those pearly gates.  But then the next day, just like the "Energizer Bunny," she pops back up with a healthy appetite and has two eggs with a couple of pieces of bacon, some toast and a quarter of a cantelope.  Later that evening, it's breaded shrimp with coctail sauce. 

She always was a good cook and has a fine appreciation for American cuisine, including ice cream, which is how she gets her meds down to ease her pain and make life a little easier for her Hospice caregivers, the ones who do their share of the heavy lifting.  Such a blessing.  One among many. with Allyson leading the stellum, lighting the way for us all.

It's not easy to die sometimes.  Just like there are difficult births, that stand out in contrast to the easy ones, there are also difficult deaths.  How does one let go of this dear old friend, the body?  I don't know.  I wish I did.  Because, if so, I might be able to help mom to say bye for now.  But I do feel that there is an elegance, and certainly an astrological significance, to the timing of our deaths, just like there is a significance to the timing of our births.  So, I give it all over to Divine Arrangement, knowing that there it rests in the best possible hands.

In the meanwhile, we the living do what must be done.  We select caskets, arrange for headstones, yesterday we bought the mortuary plot, today we crafted the obituary for the home town paper.   We also ate watermelon.  A little sweet with the sad.

I'll leave you with this poem, by Ranier Maria Rilke.  It is one of my favorites and pretty much sums it up for me.  I hope that it speaks to you as dearly as it speaks to me.

The Swan

This clumsy living that moves,
lumbering, as if in ropes,
through what is not done,
reminds us of the awkward way the swan walks.
And to die,
which is a letting go of the ground we stand on and cling to everyday,
is like the swan
when he nervously lets himself down into the water
which receives him gayly,
and which flows under and after him
wave after wave.
While the swan,
unmoving and marvelously calm
is pleased to be carried,
each moment more fully grown,
more like a king,
farther and farther on.

© Josephine Laing, 2015

One Foot on Either Side of the Threshold of Life

As my friend Maggie was passing away we all took turns sitting vigil by her bedside.  It took her about three or four days to die.  As the time drew nearer she experienced increased lapses of consciousness.  I tended to take the night shifts.  I'd get off work, go home, change clothes, have a meal, and then head on over to her house.  I relieved the evening friend somewhere around 10:00 and sat with her until 2:00.  That's when her neighbor and long term friend Harold would take over.  

On the night she actually died, the most profound thing happened.  As I came to be with her and sat by her side, she greeted me with such warm love in her eyes and patted my hand, and said, "Thank you darling so much for coming to be with me."  Then, tiring easily, she slipped away into a little time of sleep.  

A moment or two later she rose up with a start, reaching her arms out in front of her and called out, "Arthur! Grandmama!  It's so wonderful to see you."  Her husband had died before her, and so of course, had her grandmother.  But there they were, in the room with us, and she was reaching out to them.  Then she'd lapse with exhaustion and sink back down on the mattress and drift to sleep again.  A minute later she would wake up, pat my hand and say, "Oh darling, I'm so glad you're here.  Thank you so much for coming to be with me."

Like seaweed on an underwater rock, she flowed from one state of reality back into the other, again and again as the hours went by, deep into the night.  Then Harold took over and an hour or two later,  she died.  I felt like I had been to a going away party and a welcome home party all in the same night.  It was a wonderful experience and I'll never forget it.  

A few years back our friend Ralph passed away.  On his last day, surrounded by his loved ones, Ralph pointed with his finger to our friend Dave, and then to our friend Mark, and then to his darling wife Aleta.  Then looking each of them in the eyes by turn, he pointed between them, and beyond them, and around them, to all the others who were there, not in body but in spirit.  They were there to greet him as he made ready to join them going home.  

We are not alone.  The world of spirit is rich and all around us all the time.  And as we get close to making our own transition, the barriers break down and the wall between life and death becomes very thin.  I consider these two incidents to be very valuable in my life.  When times get tough, when I'm in a low spot, I try to remember these lessons.  This lets me realize that help is all around and love is everywhere all the time.  May we all move with gratitude as we round the bend into the fullness of this season.  

© Josephine Laing, 2014