life goes on

I don’t think about death or dying often.  And then, maybe upon hearing a tragic story or even sometimes out of nowhere it seems, the reality of death will tightly grip onto my mind and consciousness and unsettle me. I am overcome with fascination with the fragility of life and how in a mere “moment”...of poor choice or of randomness/accident...a human life can be stripped away from us and our world, our existence, is dramatically changed.

A couple of days ago, Gracie and her friends were looking at my wedding pictures and giggling at how much Trey and I and our relatives have “changed,” their euphemism for “aged!” When Grace came upon a picture of Trey with my three brothers, she asked who two of the three guys were. I told her that they were my brothers and explained that one died from an epileptic seizure several years before she was born and that the other committed suicide when she was a baby. After a few seconds of silence, Grace and her friends responded with a sincere, “How sad,” and then turned the album page and resumed with their giggling.

If my life over the last 20 years since my first brother’s death were condensed, it would look very similar to Grace and her friends’ response to death...acknowledgement of sadness and grief and then turning the page and moving on with life. Life goes on.

Recently, I have observed myself living my life as if I have half a lifetime left to live. I am operating under the tenuous assumption that there is plenty of time remaining to do all of the things I wish to do in and with this life of mine. For a year or longer after each of my brother’s deaths, and after my good friend Erin’s, I was incapable of living from that assumption. Those periods of loss and mourning were filled with heartache and time slowed down, with the falling away of the inconsequential, and with the keen awareness that life could end at any moment. (Those time were also filled with healing and the witnessing of God at work in my life, and with gratitude for each day.) With time and distance, I have not lost my gratitude for life, but I have lost some of the sense of urgency, or maybe presence, embraced by the philosophy of seizing the day, a lesson forced upon me in the wake of my loved ones’ deaths. 

I think for the most part that I possess a core peace with death. To me, birth and death are simply nouns that describe the cycle of life of the body, of form. The body returns to dust, but our life force transitions from one realm to another, as it/we have done seemingly countless times before...and to come. Not dust to dust, but rather life to life. Life goes on.

So maybe the next time the concept of death clings to me, accelerates my pulse, and entertains the idea of fear and loss, I will seize the opportunity to connect with my knowing and peace, and to reinforce the profound lessons learned from the life transitions of my three loved ones. Live my life with the awareness that it is delicate, but not in fear of death. Live this life with purpose and presence each and every day. Seize the opportunity in each day to heal, to share myself with the world, to receive the gifts of life, and to love others, this planet and myself deeply.  

I am blessed to have had communications with my brothers and Erin from the other side. Life goes on...more beautifully than we can imagine.