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:
No comments:
Post a Comment