My dear friend’s mother died recently.  Helen was 88 years old and had been sick with kidney disease for 3 years.  Her decline was not quick or pretty.  And yet, her dying had a certain beauty to it . . . a peaceful acceptance . . . a surrendered willingness.

 I attended an intimate ceremony this week celebrating the release of Helen’s spirit.  It wasn’t a memorial service or funeral in the traditional sense.  It was more of a spiritual send-off, a loving support of her transition to a nonphysical existence.

Martha spoke about her mother’s final months.  She shared with us Helen’s mantra: “I only want to know the peace of God.  God’s peace is all that I want.”  As Helen shed her attachment to the world of form, she became calmly focused on a goal that most of us miss in the busyness of our daily lives.

I’ve heard that a dying person can become radiant as they prepare to leave this earth.  Helen did.  Her passing reminded me how simple and blissful the death of a body can be when it occurs without resistance or struggle.  From what I’ve seen, it can indeed be the most natural transition of our lives . . . even the most beautiful.

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The first tree I fell in love with was a southern magnolia.  That tree, as I recall, was absolutely huge - with low lying branches where a little girl could sit, sheltered from the Texas heat.  In the spring it produced giant, fragrant blossoms - larger than my hands - that gave off the most heavenly scent imaginable.  My mother used to put the blooms in bowls of water around the house so that the rooms would fill with the smell of magnolia. (more…)

For 3 decades, he had two waist-length signature braids and then . . . snip . . . they were gone.  It has been heralded as “the haircut heard around the world”.  Why?  Who?  Willie Nelson, of course.  I grew up in Texas where he was an icon.  For all of us, those braids were his identity. (more…)

A sea of mortarboard caps . . . seniors with tear-soaked tissues . . . parents dabbing at moist eyes.  Pomp.  Circumstance.  Ah . . . graduation.

When I graduated from high school, I was overcome by the end of life as I knew it.  It was not only the end of school but also the end of my residence in Texas and the end of living with my parents.  When I graduated from college, I was likewise cognizant of the ‘death’ of everything familiar. (more…)

She walked to the front of the room and slid a daisy into the vase.  Speaking softly, almost as if to the flower, she murmured, “For my dear mother who passed away two months ago.”  I was on the second row, about to sing with a small group at this hospice memorial service.  The poignant flower ritual was designed to honor and remember the deceased. (more…)