My beloved teacher Bella once said, "If you knew what was going to happen in your life you'd never leave the house." I have thought about that comment many times over the years, as it is so true on so many levels. But recently those words hit my heart so deeply, when I got the text in March that my dear friend's son passed way suddenly. I would never have wanted to know, when I would watch sweet 8 year old, adventurous Izak for the weekends, that he would only live into his early adulthood. I would never want to know when his mom told me about his adventures and struggles that his time here was short. If I knew, I would never have wanted to leave the house.
During this time unfathomable loss, I also faced the terminal illness of another loved one. A brother in heart and soul. Then I got the news that a childhood friend passed away, also suddenly and tragically. We had just texted a few days earlier, sharing wishes for a happy Pesach. If I'd known, that comment Bella made, that symbolism hitting home, oh so deeply, I would never want to leave the house. It felt too much for my heart, which I am coming to learn is much bigger and much more sensitive that I had wanted to previously acknowledge. My caretaking personality, pulled me to wanting to be there for my family and loved ones, to protect them from the pain they were experiencing. Pain so deep there really are no words to describe. But I also had to take care of myself. These losses, back to back cut deep, triggered old wounds, which mandated inquiry. Being both present for others and myself was an interesting balance.
As someone who has long lived a life om the path of service and spiritual practice, I have known that the soul lives on once a person drops their body (that is how dying is expressed in some other cultures/spiritual practices.) Yet while that may be true, it is no easy task for those left behind. We have to sit with the empty spaces left behind when physical presence of our loved ones are gone. We have to let our heart weep. What an odd and most challenging duality; sitting with divine truth and the human experience. I have realized these past two months that there is nothing to do but to sit with both, equally, and in those spaces there is both deep peace and profound grief.
As a mother, I have to help my daughters process these losses in ways their young hearts and minds can hold. I don't want to downplay or sugarcoat things happening in our lives (something I don't think I am capable of) but I also do not want to overwhelm or push them into dark places that might be too much to handle for their young hearts and minds. The girls have but a few memories of Izak (they remember more so his brother Jonah) and did not know the others but they had to witness their mother breaking out in tears, in random moments, which I could see in their eyes left them both feeling confused and compassionate. All I could do was be honest with myself and them. To tell them I was so very sad and that my heart felt like it was breaking. I wanted them to see my pain, to not feel shame in it or to hid it. I want them to grow knowing that it is safe, healthy and healing to express emotions such as sadness and loss.
Death is a for certain thing. None of use gets a pass. We all wish we did, thus the fascination with vampires but the truth is, we are mortal. The girls are have had their own experiences, from the loss of their beloved Bodhi cat and when they were younger their great aunt, who they said goodbye to in the hospital. They have witnessed the loss of a parent at their school and seen the news of the murders of black men by police. Yet death still remains that one space where it is never gets easier to cope with. Even when one is suffering and we know they will be at peace; when we can feel the peace when one drops their body, leaving us relieved but sad, we are still left with so many mixed emotions. Death it leaves us facing and sitting with that unusual duality. I guess this is in part, what makes un humans. No easy task but no pass for that either. We all must die and we must all face the passing of others. It is no wonder that many call earth a spiritual school. All these difficult human experiences, they force us to learn and grow but they also break our hearts along the way.
There is no real way to sum this all up. No way to wrap up all the thoughts and emotions. I can just wish the souls of those I love fly freely. If they return again, I wish them more liberation and joy then this time around. And I wish for those left behind to have some peace in their hearts as they too sit with the dualities of death.
