The Finality of Death
I have been traveling for the past ten days, from the west coast to the east, teaching and learning in all kinds of ways. When I got back into cell phone range after being at the Point Reyes Seashore in northern California, I called home to check in. When I did, I learned that my friend had died. I knew he was on life support after serious complications after an outpatient surgery but to hear that he was no longer on this planet, in body-form at least, took my breath away.
Death is so final. I know deep in my bones that it is not an end, but there is a finality to it that leaves me feeling powerless. I can't bring him back. No matter how much I tantrum and grasp, nothing will bring him back. My mind does somersaults trying to understand how I will never see his smile again, never hug him again or hear his laugh. Never in the same way I have known him here.
That is tough for me to breathe into, but I do anyway. I keep breathing. And when I breathe, I connect with something beyond the tiny speck of my thinking mind. I connect with him in a new way, one that I am not sure I love as much as hearing him sing, but it will have to do. And I do feel just a smidge of gratitude for this new connection.
Jenny, I am very sorry you have lost your friend. It is so hard. I love you. B
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Jenny,
Death is so final. I think that one of the reasons religion and spirituality and even myth exist is because of death's finality, and the immensity of taking that in our puny human consciousness. I know we haven't talked or been in the same room for a long, long time, but this post of yours touched me, and I wanted to reach out and hug you for the finality of death. It is because of death's finality that we can find ourselves that much more alive.
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