I’ve had several weeks now to process my Grandma’s death. It hasn’t been easy. I’ve felt sadness and even elation sometimes. The sadness came for obvious reasons but the elation was unexpected. To be able to look death in the face with my Grandma and to see her smile–to see her child within as she breathed her last breath–that was something I could not have anticipated. I think it has fundamentally changed the way I see the world and everything in it. Death is not the end. It is only a new beginning.
My sense and savor of the world has been heightened. I look into my friends’ eyes and I see something new–I see their hopes and dreams–the ones they will carry with them till their own death. I see how precious they are. I feel their fears too. But mostly, I recognize just how fragile this life is, how easy it is for the heart to stop beating, for an accident to happen, for a life to be taken. It’s not macabre–it’s beautiful.
Everything that is is here because it’s held in time and space by something greater, a powerful force, a benevolent, gentle presence. We go on with our lives not knowing how delicate our frame and just how much the Universe supports and nurtures our existence. Tiny specks of matter we are–floating through an immense, and perhaps infinitely small, cosmos. We are, at times, so filled with our own self-importance, insisting upon our own independence–a fortunate impossibility. We are cradled in the arms of the Universe. All of us. Important. Unique. Holy. And yet, just a tiny speck of matter.
John, this is really beautiful. It makes me reflect on the fragility piece that you talk about. This kind of dichotomy of fragility and strength at the same time. You have a way with words. Thank you for sharing them.