Beautifully written and personally offered.... Unfortunately all the tragedies that go through life were part of my vocation and eventually for many... ended in timely and untimely death... I love your direction of awakening to a new and special place... Since life and death are largely dependent upon faith in God.... At least for believers.... It once again tests our emotions and cradles us in love.... I have the strange feeling that death means passing from one time place to another time place and I guess that's why I sense so strongly the bouncing and bumping into loved ones and saints that I have known... I love that brisk breeze...an almost chilling sensation of touching a loved one...
Barry, thanks for sharing your perspective. I especially appreciate the idea of transitioning from one time place to another (time being a human construct and all), and of the brisk breeze of coming close to someone we've had to learn to "see" or experience differently. Beautiful!
First, I loved hearing your voice in this piece. I have a group of funeral homes for which i do their marketing, so discussions of death, and how we talk about it are frequent. We position it as simply 'each life's a journey to be celebrated' but grief, well that's a challenge with no defined path that we navigate in different ways. But, with openness about this topic, i believe we can find a sense of peace, and as you say some expansion, maybe even liberation.....an ongoing process, right?
Yes to celebrating, Deborah, and to grief needing all the space and grace we can give it. If it wasn't evident from this writing, I do think we would benefit from more openness about death and all related processes. I don't think most of us (myself included) even have a well-developed vocabulary for how to say what it is we feel, let alone tools to support our walking through it. Thanks so much for sharing.
This is lovely. I needed this. November 13 will have been Ed's 91st birthday. I'm already steeling myself for that day, planning a trip off the island to do something we both might have liked--I don't know what yet--so I can feel I'm sharing it with him and I'm not just burrowing in my grief. I want to remember what we had, not what we don't have.
I have to keep working on that. 💕
Thank you for writing this. It must have felt bittersweet to you, as well.
A week away... I'm smiling to know that you're planning something engaging that the two of you would have enjoyed. I suspect it will not be easy, the business of sharing experiences with those who now are present in spirit rather that in person being an area most of us haven't had the chance to fully develop. But, maybe he'll help you along with that, too. Works in progress, definitely. For me, there is more sweetness than not in remembering these days, and these people. It's interesting that November was a tricky month for my mother and now, coincidentally or not, there are many to remember for me as well (some of them overlapping).
Heavenly Day is a FAVORITE as is Patty G. Elizabeth, I am struck each Wednesday how you deliver thoughts that swirl in my mind and just flirt with being written, and you effortlessly and eloquently beat me to it. This is just beautiful.
Likewise on the song and the artist, Courtney! I find the same to be true of you and other writers I'm linked with here and elsewhere. Like there's some kind of collective consciousness going on. I'm okay with that idea! Thanks so much for your comment.
Thank you, Amy. Do you find that pieces of music can take on entirely different meanings when heard from a new vantage point? She describes Heavenly Day as a love song written to her dog. It sure seems to take on another message here. So appreciate you reading and sharing.
I found this a profoundly peaceful read. As I get older I have become more and more interested in death and ways of dying, in faith (of any kind), and in trying to be aware of my own feelings and awareness of it without being fearful. I also liked the way you celebrate birthdays rather than death days - something I shall try to persuade my siblings to do with my late parents. Thank you Elizabeth.
I'm reassured to read this, June. I worried it might be a distressing topic for some and hoped to find a way to frame it in a non-threatening way. Ways of dying -- that is another much needed conversation. Thank you for adding to the conversation.
I loved this piece, the image of the older woman slowly rocking. My dear friend Mary sent me a link to her beloved cousin's eulogy, where another cousin spoke of collateral beauty. I am still thinking about this...the beauty that is present with love and memories accompanying sorrow and grief. Collateral beauty.
I choose to celebrate my lost loved ones birthdays, not their death days.
Collateral beauty -- what a rich idea. I'd love to learn more. I see that there is a movie of the same name. I'm guessing the one presented in the eulogy would be more beneficial. Thanks so much for sharing this reflection here, Susan.
I wonder if too, we think more about death because of age. I'm 72 and older than my Dad when he died. It's a confronting thought if I let it be.
I'm a very junior student of Buddhism and their approach to death and life is so uplifting. When Dad became terminally ill, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying taught me so much and gave me a certain strength to cope.
My son was confronted recently with the hard truths of a rare and untreatable illness. His approach has been to seek CBT instruction from a psychologist who is a trained Buddhist and I have watched him move from terrified panic to acceptance and a deep wisdom and appreciation of the life yet to be lived.
I come from a family of funeral directors and so death has been a common (if poignant) part of my life from birth. I suspect it has helped formulate some of my attitudes.
Finally, thank you, Barry, for the 'chill breeze' metaphor. It's perfection, and I think I might have sensed it at times with my parents.
These thoughts on death have not *felt* age-driven, but I'm sure that, too, is swirling in the soup somewhere. I'm no religious scholar, or even what I would call well versed (no pun intended), but I get the impression that death is meant to be celebrated in most religions, either as an opportunity to reunite with the fullness of the Divine, or to move from one existence to the next (or both). Our humanity complicates things. I'd love to learn more about what the Book of Living and Dying taught you. Sounds like we could all benefit from having a copy.
Barry is a wise and wonderful friend, and spiritual leader (he was my youth minister for many years). Like you, I appreciated that metaphor and will make sure he sees your comment.
I'm so sorry to learn about your son's diagnosis, Prue. You've alluded to this on more than one occasion in your posts or comments, but I had not seen anything specific until now. I hope you all, and he, are finding the support you need to navigate this new, complex path. That he is already tapping into deep wisdom and gratitude is, to me, indicative of one possessing both great courage and humility. Mercies to you all.
Ah, Roe, thank you. It's interesting, that word "soothing." So hard to hear that in oneself. I assume this is all top of mind for you, too, mostly all the time. Hugs.
Thank you for this beautifully written “ peace.”I learned so much when my mother passed, her last gifts of shared wisdom, and I welcome hearing others’ stories as well. All part of life.
Storytelling is key for me, too, Cynthia. One of the drivers for Chicken Scratch, in fact, is to hopefully provide a way for more of these universal truths to be shared, especially in cases where we've been trained, culturally, to keep it to ourselves. Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts.
Beautifully written and personally offered.... Unfortunately all the tragedies that go through life were part of my vocation and eventually for many... ended in timely and untimely death... I love your direction of awakening to a new and special place... Since life and death are largely dependent upon faith in God.... At least for believers.... It once again tests our emotions and cradles us in love.... I have the strange feeling that death means passing from one time place to another time place and I guess that's why I sense so strongly the bouncing and bumping into loved ones and saints that I have known... I love that brisk breeze...an almost chilling sensation of touching a loved one...
Barry, thanks for sharing your perspective. I especially appreciate the idea of transitioning from one time place to another (time being a human construct and all), and of the brisk breeze of coming close to someone we've had to learn to "see" or experience differently. Beautiful!
First, I loved hearing your voice in this piece. I have a group of funeral homes for which i do their marketing, so discussions of death, and how we talk about it are frequent. We position it as simply 'each life's a journey to be celebrated' but grief, well that's a challenge with no defined path that we navigate in different ways. But, with openness about this topic, i believe we can find a sense of peace, and as you say some expansion, maybe even liberation.....an ongoing process, right?
Yes to celebrating, Deborah, and to grief needing all the space and grace we can give it. If it wasn't evident from this writing, I do think we would benefit from more openness about death and all related processes. I don't think most of us (myself included) even have a well-developed vocabulary for how to say what it is we feel, let alone tools to support our walking through it. Thanks so much for sharing.
This is lovely. I needed this. November 13 will have been Ed's 91st birthday. I'm already steeling myself for that day, planning a trip off the island to do something we both might have liked--I don't know what yet--so I can feel I'm sharing it with him and I'm not just burrowing in my grief. I want to remember what we had, not what we don't have.
I have to keep working on that. 💕
Thank you for writing this. It must have felt bittersweet to you, as well.
A week away... I'm smiling to know that you're planning something engaging that the two of you would have enjoyed. I suspect it will not be easy, the business of sharing experiences with those who now are present in spirit rather that in person being an area most of us haven't had the chance to fully develop. But, maybe he'll help you along with that, too. Works in progress, definitely. For me, there is more sweetness than not in remembering these days, and these people. It's interesting that November was a tricky month for my mother and now, coincidentally or not, there are many to remember for me as well (some of them overlapping).
💕❤️💕
Heavenly Day is a FAVORITE as is Patty G. Elizabeth, I am struck each Wednesday how you deliver thoughts that swirl in my mind and just flirt with being written, and you effortlessly and eloquently beat me to it. This is just beautiful.
Likewise on the song and the artist, Courtney! I find the same to be true of you and other writers I'm linked with here and elsewhere. Like there's some kind of collective consciousness going on. I'm okay with that idea! Thanks so much for your comment.
Another beautiful, reflective piece, Elizabeth. I love that song, too.
Thank you, Amy. Do you find that pieces of music can take on entirely different meanings when heard from a new vantage point? She describes Heavenly Day as a love song written to her dog. It sure seems to take on another message here. So appreciate you reading and sharing.
I found this a profoundly peaceful read. As I get older I have become more and more interested in death and ways of dying, in faith (of any kind), and in trying to be aware of my own feelings and awareness of it without being fearful. I also liked the way you celebrate birthdays rather than death days - something I shall try to persuade my siblings to do with my late parents. Thank you Elizabeth.
I'm reassured to read this, June. I worried it might be a distressing topic for some and hoped to find a way to frame it in a non-threatening way. Ways of dying -- that is another much needed conversation. Thank you for adding to the conversation.
I loved this piece, the image of the older woman slowly rocking. My dear friend Mary sent me a link to her beloved cousin's eulogy, where another cousin spoke of collateral beauty. I am still thinking about this...the beauty that is present with love and memories accompanying sorrow and grief. Collateral beauty.
I choose to celebrate my lost loved ones birthdays, not their death days.
Collateral beauty -- what a rich idea. I'd love to learn more. I see that there is a movie of the same name. I'm guessing the one presented in the eulogy would be more beneficial. Thanks so much for sharing this reflection here, Susan.
How perfectly expressed, as always, Elizabeth.
I wonder if too, we think more about death because of age. I'm 72 and older than my Dad when he died. It's a confronting thought if I let it be.
I'm a very junior student of Buddhism and their approach to death and life is so uplifting. When Dad became terminally ill, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying taught me so much and gave me a certain strength to cope.
My son was confronted recently with the hard truths of a rare and untreatable illness. His approach has been to seek CBT instruction from a psychologist who is a trained Buddhist and I have watched him move from terrified panic to acceptance and a deep wisdom and appreciation of the life yet to be lived.
I come from a family of funeral directors and so death has been a common (if poignant) part of my life from birth. I suspect it has helped formulate some of my attitudes.
Finally, thank you, Barry, for the 'chill breeze' metaphor. It's perfection, and I think I might have sensed it at times with my parents.
These thoughts on death have not *felt* age-driven, but I'm sure that, too, is swirling in the soup somewhere. I'm no religious scholar, or even what I would call well versed (no pun intended), but I get the impression that death is meant to be celebrated in most religions, either as an opportunity to reunite with the fullness of the Divine, or to move from one existence to the next (or both). Our humanity complicates things. I'd love to learn more about what the Book of Living and Dying taught you. Sounds like we could all benefit from having a copy.
Barry is a wise and wonderful friend, and spiritual leader (he was my youth minister for many years). Like you, I appreciated that metaphor and will make sure he sees your comment.
I'm so sorry to learn about your son's diagnosis, Prue. You've alluded to this on more than one occasion in your posts or comments, but I had not seen anything specific until now. I hope you all, and he, are finding the support you need to navigate this new, complex path. That he is already tapping into deep wisdom and gratitude is, to me, indicative of one possessing both great courage and humility. Mercies to you all.
So glad you're here, Prue. Heart hugs to you.
such a beautiful way to think about endings.
and to be able to hear your soothing voice on a day i was not expecting? treasure
Ah, Roe, thank you. It's interesting, that word "soothing." So hard to hear that in oneself. I assume this is all top of mind for you, too, mostly all the time. Hugs.
You are a beautiful writer. This article made my heart ache and feel warmth at the same time.
I'm grateful to know you connected with it, Marissa. And I hope all is well with you and yours! Thanks for the comment.
Thank you for this beautifully written “ peace.”I learned so much when my mother passed, her last gifts of shared wisdom, and I welcome hearing others’ stories as well. All part of life.
Storytelling is key for me, too, Cynthia. One of the drivers for Chicken Scratch, in fact, is to hopefully provide a way for more of these universal truths to be shared, especially in cases where we've been trained, culturally, to keep it to ourselves. Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts.