Every time I'm faced with death I can't help but be sad. Even if I had no relationship with the deceased. I will never forget last April, as I watched a resident take her last breath. I had been working in long-term care since the fall...and managed to avoid witnessing a death until the spring. I had been in her hospice room reading Psalms to her. A nurse's aid held her left hand, as I held her right. The aid checked her pulse every few minutes. We said nothing to each other while we were in the room together...we didn't need to. I read. She listened. And we held the hands of a dying woman.
As this woman took her last gasping breath the only thing I could think about was...how hard that was for me. And how terrible I must be to feel that. I'll never forget the conversation I had with my mother as soon as I left work for the day. I sobbed uncontrollably sputtering out how I felt terrible that I could only think of myself. She reminded me that I was brave for being able to be present. For comforting someone. For making sure this woman was not alone as she prepared for the final step in coming home.
Shortly after that I read a book on Celtic spirituality that helped me reconcile my feelings of grief for her, and for myself. In this book were some words from the amazing poet T.S. Eliot:
And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and to know the place for the first time.
One of the most beautiful aspects of Celtic spirituality to me is the idea that we journey along a path that is cyclical in nature. We are born with all we need to know...living is simply being able to extract that which is already in our hearts and souls.
This may have seemed to come out of nowhere...as some of my posts do. However, there was a funeral at the church this morning. And as I listened to the service...and helped grieving family members find their way around the church...I didn't feel sorry for myself. I felt grief and immense sadness for those surrounding me. But for me? I felt blessed. I felt immensely grateful to go back to my office. To be able to call my sister. To e-mail my dad. To be alive.
As we approach Lent...perhaps most especially Ash Wednesday...we are reminded of the finite and frail nature of humanity. Yet I was reminded today by a dear friend, and old professor that this does not need to be the only thing we remember. We can remember that while we are dying...we are also living. And Lent can be a time to reclaim the transitory nature of our existence. To "stop and smell the roses." To find beauty and blessing in all that surrounds you.
If you're not a "God" stuff kinda person...maybe it's a text that makes you smile during your day. A song on the radio that had been long forgotten or a movie that speaks to you. Whatever it is...may you experience the blessings that ARE all around you. I know I have today. And I can only hope to enter into this holy season continuing to remember how very blessed I truly am.
