I learned a long time ago that crying is natural and is nothing to be ashamed about. I am an easy crier, and many things make me tear up. I find that these days my grief over losing my mother at the end of 2015, and my dad last April comes and goes. There are times I find myself talking to them and feeling peaceful. There are other days when I just can’t stop crying over the loss of them.
It’s one of the life lessons learned; we can’t know when we will be the last ones in the family left standing. Certainly we think about it, but then go right into the ‘oh, but there’s still time’ feeling. When my mother had Hospice at home, I knew that my time with her was finite. When we moved my dad into our home last March, it was a relief for us all to be together.
I didn’t get home in time to be with my mother when she died at home, but I feel strongly that it was a relief for her to rise up out of that poor, tired worn-out body. I imagine her smiling to herself as she lifted up, hearing my dad in the hallway, and their cat, Bailey, purring nearby. How the sounds would have drifted up and away from her as she rose to meet her family and friends on the other side.
When my dad died, I was with him. I watched as his features composed as though readying himself for the transition. I knew from all of our talks that he was ready and also happy to go. There was peace on his face, and I felt grateful to be there to see that beautiful and wise soul move on to be with my mother and all his people.
It’s funny: you always think that you will do and say all the right things when people you love pass on. I think that that what really happens is a sweet and gentle shift out of the old and tired body, then a gentle shift back into the eternal spirit body from which we all came.
And at that time, words don’t matter.