So hard to know what to say sometimes.

Hello y’all. I have a lot going on. Most of which is unbloggable. I would like to be here with you, but I feel somehow dishonest when I write casual posts during difficult times.

Here’s one thing that has been happening: My best friend of nineteen years lost her mother this past weekend. It was neither unexpected nor sudden, but the loss is still very sad.

What was not sad, however, was the death itself. It’s rare, in this country, in this age, that birth or death takes place at home, lovingly, without bright lights and machines beeping everywhere. But that’s precisely what this family achieved: a quiet, domestic letting-go, with time and space for meaningful goodbyes.

I am enormously proud of my friend, and of her whole family. I am proud of her mother, and glad that her spirit made its transition so gracefully.

I strongly encourage you all to go read my friend Silligirl’s account of the whole process. She wants the put the word out that it is possible for death to be beautiful, even when the loss is painful.

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5 Responses so far »

  1. 2

    bronnie said,

    Wow, that’s was quite a moving account from Silligirl. Thanks for posting it the link, U. It meant a lot to read about the journey of this brave, lovely lady and all the wonderful caring support she had..Clearly,they loved her so much that they let her go on her own terms.
    I’ve lost both my parents;Mom back in ’91,my Dad only last December. I’m chiming in here because, while my 87 year old Dad’s sudden death was not something I was present for,something rather extraordinary happened just the night before.
    We were very close, and we’d chat on the phone every night about 8pm. After our conversation, there would normally have been the usual “goodnight, Papa, love you, sleep well” sign off.
    But for some reason that night, it was on my heart to express very specifically how much I loved him.And, clearly touched, he said “Me you too, Baby”. He seemed fine,was totally with it, not feeling sick, just frail and a bit weak as many are in assisted living at that age.
    The next morning I got a call from his doctor at the elder care facility, who gently informed me that Dad had passed away of a heart attack half an hour before.I was told that he was the first to resident to die in his own room(and not in hospital) in three years,thus avoiding the end he dreaded most.. longterm care hooked up to tubed and drips. In this way, I guess he went on his own terms, too.
    So there you have it.. While I wished I could have been with him, there was no way anyone could have known in advance. He’d been up getting ready for breakfast when the attack hit; mercifully fast, with onset to death being only a few minutes.I really felt blessed and comforted that I had the chance to say what I said during what turned out to be our last conversation.

  2. 3

    Sara said,

    Thinking of you.

  3. 4

    MonkeyGurrl said,

    Life sucks. Death sucks. Let’s hope it gets better from there.

  4. 5

    ladylinoleum said,

    My thoughts are with you girlie. Miss you and hope to see you soon.


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