My dad was number 6.
My glimpse of Death M’reen
Why do I include an article when we all die in the end?
Because death happens to all of us, it is not a failure
and neither is this article a story of failure, in fact it’s rather beautiful.
My reading of the Tibetan Buddhist’s idea of death is that one dies well,
that is without leaving any negative emotions that tie you to the earth plain.
If death is fearful, then that is a different issue and one that can be considered
at anytime in life so that one can enjoy all stages of life.
Hypnotherapy or counselling and many other disciplines can help.
I met a lady three weeks or so before her death from cancer, I would not have known she was ill if I had not have been told, she had a surrounding of love
that was recognisable to me. Also recognisable to me was the worm of fear
that I would not be such a ‘good’ and ‘courageous’ person.
Cancer through the eyes of ten women, P Duncker & V Wilson
ISBN 0 04 440980 X recognises and exposes this worm.
There is much I cannot remember surrounding the time when my mother
died of cancer. We were unaware of the cancer during the proceeding weeks
to hospitalisation even though she was exceptionally tired.
Although she was only 64, I think she was prepared for death and accepted death.
I think she managed her illness and death and that that was respected and accommodated by the medical personnel and chaplaincy of the hospital.
She was cared for with care at Airedale hospital.
Some years later I had a ‘dream’ regarding cancer and death that I am happy
to share. When I recounted this ‘dream experience’ to a complete non-believer
who’s cancer had returned she found it to be ‘strangely comforting’.
I was not the sort of person ‘weird’ things happened to.
Asleep, I was suddenly aware of eyes penetrating mine,
I thought, ‘OK, I’m awake,’ and drifted off.
Then the eyes demandingly went right through my pupils, ‘OK, I’M AWAKE.’
I was aware of a tiny me standing a long way back from a vast heaven to earth curtain or time warp, behind this were bleachers, those serried ranks of benches one higher than the other, they stretched from left to right filling the scene.
On one bench sat an image I took to be my mother, my impression was of an indistinct shape wearing a white nighty type gown, a long way behind her (in time) was another figure, I took this figure to her left to be a female relative.
My mother communicated telepathically and I responded in crude, cumbersome, pedantic earth language, I felt graceless and inarticulate and little, yet understood
and accepted. (So, was my ego still trying to get in the way?)
Whenever a reply was require from me, I responded with,
“That’s cool”, this is NOT a phrase I use!
My present memory is that she repeated that Cancer is just part of life
and without any visible indication she asked the other lady to confirm this
and the confirmation was supportive.
She said that death was just part of life, there was no pain.
The whole experience was just so indescribably naturally peaceful.
The acceptance and universality throughout time was inclusive.
My family. I’ve never met my paternal grandfather, or Uncle Sam – yet.
Perhaps you’d like to check out my sister blogs:
www.ourmindminds.blogspot.com which takes advantage of the experience and expertise of others.
www.turbochargedreading.blogspot.com describes the steps to reading in the way your mind prefers.
www.happyartaccidents.blogspot.com just for fun.