Touched by Death
2 Jun
When I first met Jennifer, she was dying at the age of 42 after being diagnosed with an illness that was eating her body from the inside out. I was volunteering at the Hospice Care Center and I wasn’t sure what I was doing there. I couldn’t save anyone or change the circumstances. I watched the staff take care of people that literally couldn’t take care of themselves and their care extended to the families. A support system for death– day after day
Most of the time, the people staying at the Care Center came and went quickly. Jennifer was the exception. She lived there for over a month and each day she held herself with honor. She knew her days were numbered and each one was a gift. Everyone loved being around her as her spirit continued to soar, its beauty unchanging among the ups and downs of disease. It still amazes me how she would keep going. The simple gestures of pulling her body up, fixing her hair, getting ready for the day—all took determination and courage.
One sunny day, I accompanied her outside in the courtyard. She sat in her wheelchair hooked up to an oxygen tank. She was barely able to breathe and wanted to talk. She shared with me the pains and joys of her story. We talked about where she grew up, her children, her professional life and hobbies. She laughed when she remembered the last hike she took in the Rocky Mountains and cried when she thought about the horrors of dying young. These were the traces of Jennifer that she was leaving behind. Her hand shook as she thought of her daughter in college, her hopes and dreams for a future she would never see.
As we continued to sit together, fear dropped away and with a deep surrender she said, “ I am ready to go.” The moment was beautiful, heartbreaking and open—we both stopped, relaxed, and let go into the mystery. Fading into each other as we shared part of ourselves with ourselves. I would die one day and she was paving the way.
This is when I realized, I am not here to change things or save anyone. I am here to be with people, their hearts and lives–the beauty in the heartbreak. It takes practice to be open and sit still–listening to the wisdom in the pain and still seeing joy in being alive. Being able to cry and laugh together. I honestly wouldn’t have been able to sit with Jennifer if I hadn’t spent so many years practicing opening my own heart. As I have trained to be intimate with the magic of the moment, I have learned to incline the mind to beauty and light, even amidst the darkness. I was in awe of Jennifer and her ability to do the same.
As I wheeled Jennifer inside, I knew it would be the last time I saw her. When the nurse asked if she enjoyed being outside, she replied with tears in her eyes, “ Emily listened to my stories.” I knew for that brief moment, she felt heard and seen. It was beautiful– this simple act of being there for someone in the moments when most people shy away. My heart was breaking, the sun was shining, and the birds were singing. These are the bittersweet moments of death arriving along with birth of something new—never before seen. The heart can hold it all if one is open to being touched deeply. Jennifer may be gone, but she left traces with me. I feel honored to have shared in some of her final moments in this life—touching my life—now perhaps touching yours.
Thank you. This was really beautiful.
Beautiful.
Tears
Your existence reinforces my existence. Thanks, Emily.
I don’t know why you’re on my tweet list but I read your post and I find it fascinating. I’m a recovering “schizophrenic” but really I had a spiritual emergency in my early 20′s in college when I started “hearing voices” which I knew was actually just opening up to higher dimensions without having the ego strength to cope with these new energies. Now I live in Boulder and study meditation along with Christian faith practices. I go to the Shambhala center on occasion and read spiritual texts and I plan on going to the Naropa summer writing program. I really appreciate the work you’re doing and I plan on doing some similar work in the near future. Did you have a spiritual emergency when you were young? Mine was very intense, due to drug use mostly, and my desire to escape the world of form. Unfortunately I lept off the cliff a little too soon and landed in murky waters. It has taken me many long walks and sitting and being alone to get grounded again and to start listening to my body instead of being caught up in my thoughts. It’s really miraculous I’ve survived this long and I hope in the future more awareness will be brought to the issue of young people trying to escape their bodies and achieve some sort of nirvana or peace without having the proper structure and support systems around them to make that leap.
Good on you, Emily!