I am grieving. A week ago my godmother passed on – just a few days after we celebrated her 94th birthday. She had a long, full life and passed with old age pains but no sickness, mentally fully clear and exactly how she wanted to – at home in her own bed. On her own terms. I am very grateful for that, yet my heart is still heavy because the truth is: we are never prepared for death.
I want to talk about dying here because I believe there’s still a big taboo around death and grieving. And there shouldn’t be because we all know – dying is part of living and the only thing that we are absolutely sure about is that one day it will be us leaving. However, despite all our discoveries, death is still a big mystery, the big unknown.
As lightworkers, we know about the soul and our true essence that is eternal and unaffected by physical death. We know or even have experienced that there is an existence beyond the body and we just transition from one state of being into another. I perceive my godmother’s soul joyous and surrounded by light. I feel her liberated from the limitations of a physical vehicle and part of me is so happy and grateful for all the amazing experiences we shared.
Then again, I am very aware of the fact that I’ll never see her again. I’ll never hear her voice again. Death has a finality that is difficult to handle.
As I am grieving I realize how helpless most people are in the face of death. They give their condolences and expect me to be ok again. Grief comes in waves. It isn’t a constant companion. But it is there – still. And every major life transitions are like a small death: kids moving out of the house, losing a job, starting menopause, ending a relationship. They all want to be mourned. How much time do we get to grieve?
I realize I cannot let anyone dictated how I grieve or give into other people’s expectations, I am going through my own process, finding the strength to bear the ambiguity of this time when life and death are so close to each other. There is joy in the sadness and sadness in the joy. That’s just how it is. And that’s ok.
Whenever I am faced with death and my own mortality it also awakens a new zest for life. It reminds me of what is truly important to me. And how precious and fragile life is. We never know how much time we have, so don’t postpone the things that matter. Don’t wait for things to happen. Make them happen today! And don’t forget to laugh and love fiercely.
I am laughing and grieving and holding all that life entails in my heart. That’s what it means to be alive: feeling the sadness and still loving, living and making plans for the future.