I Don’t Believe Death Is Goodbye

Growing up you think your parents will always be there. It is easy to believe you will always have more time with them.

Unfortunately, as some of you already know, this is not the case. I’m now part of a club to which I never wanted to belong but to which we will all belong at some point. What’s crazy is we don’t see it coming but it is inevitable. How can society prepare you for being an empty nester but not for life without your parents?

Even our parents aging somehow takes us by surprise. Is it easier to understand and imagine stages we have experienced ourselves? We have all been children and left the house, but we haven’t gone through death yet. Is that why it is so hard to envision?

My mom died unexpectedly in December 2019. When I say unexpectedly, I mean 4 weeks from when we found out she was sick until the morning we called the paramedics to take away her body. Her death has been one of the most profound experiences of my life.

Regrets

One of the activities I was looking forward to after stepping down from my job in December 2019 was lunch with my mom. We both loved a long lunch over a bottle of champagne. We would talk about nothing at all and life in general. This was one of our favorite things to do together but I hadn’t made time in the last couple of years. Always too busy with work, kids, life.

I try not to have regrets. I loved my mom and have always felt unconditionally loved by her. We talked every 10 days or so, often spent Christmas together and would get together for an occasional weekend throughout the year. And for many years we snuck away for a day in Napa for shopping and lunch.

If I could have a re-do, I would make time for those lunches. I regret in the fall before she died, I hadn’t seen or spoken to her much because I was busy with work, kids, life. If I could have a re-do, I would have called and seen her more.

Ending with Grace

By the time I saw her in the hospital she was in and out of consciousness. And when she was awake, she was groggy and not capable of much talking. She was also never alone. Even for those clearly dying, where there is nothing to be done, the monitoring and checking are constant. It is hard to peacefully complete life’s final task, dying, in a hospital.

A few hours after my arrival, when I finally managed a moment alone, I sat on the edge of her bed and held her hand. Trying not to cry, to be as brave her, I asked what I needed to know the most, “Are you afraid to die?”

As I think back on this moment, I was not surprised by her answer. She looked at me and said simply, “No.” I believed her completely. She was serene, at peace, and I could hear the calm certainty in her voice.

The Body & The Spirit

Shortly after our conversation in the hospital, we brought her home to complete the process of dying. She spent her remaining days enveloped in love, surrounded by my dad and her girls. Her bed sat in front of the dining room window with a view of the mountains she loved. By this point she was not conscious and yet still there was a steady stream of visitors who came to say goodbye. We had family dinners next to her bed, where we toasted her life. We sat with her to tell her how much we loved her and would miss her.

Over the coming days I felt her spirit flickering in and out of her body. There were moments when I knew she wasn’t in there and knew the body on the bed wasn’t my mom. I began to sense my mom was something more, something separate from her body. This realization tempered my incredible sadness and brought some peace.

Forever Presence

My mom’s death has profoundly changed the way I feel about dying. Before her death I would have said I was afraid of death, afraid to die. I was afraid of its finality. Afraid of not existing. Afraid of the black emptiness of it.

But now, while I am not ready to die, I also do not fear it. I have come to understand and believe we are more than our physical bodies. I believe we continue to exist albeit in a different form. I no longer see death as final or associate it with emptiness.

I am not religious, although I have always thought of myself as spiritual. I’m educated, logical, and practical. I had no predisposition to believe the spirit existed beyond the physical body – I hoped this was the case, but I didn’t know.

But now I do know. I know she is here, just out of sight, as real as this keyboard upon which I am typing. I can from time-to-time sense her presence, particularly when I find a moment of quiet. In fact, I can feel her as I work on this piece and know she is curious about what I am writing. My mom’s death has convinced me there are things we cannot see or “know” to be true, but this doesn’t make them less real or true.

What I find unbelievable is I feel closer to my mom in some ways than before her death. This is because she is always here with me. And yes, I know this might sound crazy (which I don’t think I am).

The day after she passed, I went for an early morning hike. I crested the ridgeline as the sun rose. It was magnificent and I stopped to take a picture. In the corner of the picture was a small green orb which subsequently appeared in every photo, no matter the angle. I have since read spirits often manifest as electrical impulses and small orbs of light. While I don’t know if this is true, I have absolutely no doubt my mom was with me watching the sunrise.

I am still sad and miss her. When she died, I lost my mom in her physical form. I miss being able to call her, to have long, leisurely lunches over a bottle of champagne, and I miss the German Chocolate cake she made me every year for my birthday. But I have absolutely no doubt she still exists and she is still with me.

Helping me move beyond my fear of dying was a beautiful final gift. Exactly something my mom would do.

Parting Thought

Don’t take time for granted. Make time for what is truly important, the people, and try to not succumb to the busyness of life.

See you next week…