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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A few weeks ago I blogged about freeing my bunny, Bella.  Amazingly, for three weeks, she hung around our back yard as happy as could be.  I would feed her a daily treat, hold her in my lap and sing to her.  She grazed and roamed amongst the patches of clover. (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…)

Just a few years ago, mother’s day for me meant breakfast in bed, big sloppy kisses, and hand-made cards proclaiming “I love you mommy.”  Now, with a house full of teenagers, I might get a meal with them and maybe, if I’m lucky, a mumbled “happy mother’s day.” (more…)