RIP, sweet lady. This morning we found her to be strange and still. We knew something was wrong, and I held her for her last moments. It all happened so quickly. We laid her down on the earth, said blessings and thanked her for her life. I'm not sure what happened. I know she was weakened by a foot infection she had months back. In any case, I find myself in the presence of death and it quiets me. I don't have a lot of wisdom about it. I believe it to be a valuable passage, and I sense my heart listening carefully when I see it happen.
I don't know much about this life, but I'm learning a few things. I'm learning that pain is necessary for growth. I'm learning that we all belong to each other. I'm learning that love is always worth what it costs. This passage has been meaning a lot to me in the past week, and here it just seems so right:
"Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips." (Kahlil Gibran)
I have gratitude today. We held a little funeral and Vera grabbed a handful of soil and said "Back to Mama Earth." Wise girl. She seemed sad and… fine. I feel like a lot of our fear of death is enculturated. I am grateful to watch my daughter, untarnished and honest in her reaction to death and love and pain. It's just life, and she seems to get it. I'm working at tapping into those instincts. I am peaceful.