Interacting with death

curiosity, acceptance, cosmic giggles and all the rest

The winds of change are blowing strong. Quite literally here, with 60mph gusts and sideways palm trees. A rainbow stretches across the sky as I type this, not unusual but never un-magical. In 11 days I will fly across the Pacific yet again. Still immersed in one life, but readying myself for another. The parallels within all my different lives make me happy. I know what I can rely upon.

It’s really been a funny time, these last weeks. And by funny, I mean… intense and ironic, beautiful and sad and exciting. So much is changing yet also deeply solidifying within me.

Our family lost my Papa recently. The Italian stallion. The most gentle soul.                   He was healthy right up until an unfortunate fall on the ice while walking the dog (he adored his Enzo). The whole thing happened so fast. Why did he choose to walk the dog instead of letting him out back on an icy day? What did he eat for breakfast that morning? How does my Nonny, my strong grandmother, process the fact that her life companion of 67 years (!) won’t be coming back home?

How does the human heart cope. These questions are very much alive within me. They don’t haunt me—only bring a sense of genuine curiosity, of desiring to open to the reality that is death, the reality that not one of us is exempt from.

I would have loved to speak to my Papa as he laid in his hospital bed (aside from the ‘I love you’ I said through a phone held to his ear). Toward the end, they said he stopped speaking…What goes through one’s mind in those hours? Was he scared? Was he also curious about what he would soon be experiencing, just on the other side of beeping apparatuses and feeding tubes?

I imagine it must have been the ultimate contrast, although perhaps the Light began flooding in even before his heart stopped beating. Perhaps he was in deep conversation with his angels, during those moments he stopped speaking out loud to this family.

This was all happening right at the same time my mom was set to visit me in Maui. While initially it felt like horrible timing—I soon realised how divinely orchestrated the entire experience was. We spent a few beautiful days on this heart-beam of an island together, speaking to such things, crying and laughing, healing a good amount of fear that I feel we’ve both been carrying around death.

It felt strange at times. We would call my brothers to give them the updates we received on Papa (not very positive ones)…and during the same phone call, I told them about how we just saw whales breaching right in front of us. Arguably one of the most brilliant displays of LIFE I’ve ever witnessed. Both Truths existing together in harmony. Joy and grief really are the best of friends. Can we let them be, without judgement?

Ultimately she left Hawaii a few days early, and made it back home to be by her dad’s side as he passed. My mother even stayed with his body for some time after. My mother! Emotional and tender-hearted as ever, she stayed with her beloved dad as he transitioned and left his physical form. This truly feels like medicine. An act of courage, strength and softness that I know is also within me. I’m so proud of her receptivity to the beauty in such an experience. Again, the healing that took place within her has also taken place in me.

The sun came out after weeks of clouds. Heaven is rejoicing. Two lovers have departed after a full lifetime together. Two more are about to reunite after almost a year apart. Two more are soon to be married!  If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Life Goes On. It just keeps moving. It doesn’t grasp or cling. Perhaps the best thing we can do is just drop the reigns and surrender, letting life move us until it’s our time to journey on.