The gifts of death and grieving
Blessings and lessons for the living
Twelve days ago, I learned that a friend of mine had passed away from cancer. I was alone when I heard the news and I had so many questions. How could she have been so sick, and I had no idea? When did she know, and why didn’t she tell me? She seemed fine the last time that we had met – if somewhat tired and stressed. It was nothing out of the ordinary, or so I thought. She went so quick. The space between diagnosis and death was mere weeks. She was only a few years older than me, not even 50-years old yet.
Of course, I have gone through a huge range of emotional experiences since the news landed: guilt, regret, sadness, anger, confusion, doubt, disbelief, acceptance, peace, even elation – though not necessarily in that order and certainly not in a neat, linear fashion.
The day after she died, I wrote this tribute to her, as a way of processing my own feelings. Because as a writer, writing is both my offering to others and my own mode of therapy. In short, this was no ordinary person who passed. Mimi was a force of nature, a leader in the community, a beacon of love and positivity known to hundreds (even if deeply known by only a few).
It is interesting what happens after someone dies. We miss their presence and are hit with the pain of loss. We feel the sadness of never being able to meet them again. We are jarred by the interruption of future plans that we haven’t made yet. Then, in stillness, we have the chance to honor them by reflecting on the legacy they leave us.
When someone significant departs from our life – no matter whether it is by conscious choice or by random circumstance – I think the two key questions for reflection remain the same.
What have they gifted to me?
What have I learned from them?
In some cases, the blessings and the lessons may be one and the same. The “blessons” as termed by another friend.
From Mimi’s essence, I received a transmission of joy, compassion, and gratefulness. These three qualities were strongly present with me in the days after her death. I got the feeling that my container for holding these things got a little bit wider and deeper because of her.
Joy.
It was extremely rare to find Mimi complaining. Of course, it did happen once in a while, but it was far from her custom – much more of a special occasion. She was always smiling and constantly hugging people. And her laughter was super contagious. Even when she was facing major challenges in her life, she had a graceful way of looking at things from a brighter side. Her higher perspective wasn’t the kind of bypassing positivity that would say, “Chin up, it could be worse.” Rather, she would gently point out some of the tiny hidden things that were beneficial about a given situation, even if living through the experience was unpleasant or difficult.
Compassion.
Mimi always offered a listening ear for any complaint that I had. She witnessed many conflicts that I got caught in over the years. (Conflicts that, in truth, were rooted in inner turmoil, reflected in the outer world.) She was soft in holding my suffering. Yet she would never say a negative word about anyone I was relating with. She knew it was not really about them. There were several times over a decade of friendship that I witnessed her acting as a refuge for characters that were shunned by the community. She took them in: The misfits, the weirdos, the lost souls, the shamed and condemned. She cared for and tended to those forsaken by others. She was the closest thing to a saint that I can imagine. Divine mother energy in a body. I know I am a better human now because I witnessed her in this.
Gratefulness.
With Mimi, her gratefulness was never performative or ritualistic. It was never about reciting a list of blessings: saying thank you for that or thank you for this. Her gratefulness was deeply embodied; it was infused into the way that she lived life to the fullest. Everything she chose to do, she did with one-hundred percent commitment. Her commitment was often acted upon in private, without desire for reward or recognition. She knew she was incredibly blessed in all ways – with capacity and opportunity and support from family, friends and a loving partner. She wasted no time in feeling guilty or shaming herself for this. The gratefulness for the abundant gifts that she was given in this life was expressed as generosity, in selfless service.
These qualities of joy, compassion, and gratefulness in action, which were carried in abundance by my friend, have been unbottled now. Now that they are freed from the limitation of her physical body, they can expand as they are bestowed on everyone whose life she touched. I spoke about this in the elegy that I read at her memorial service.
I know that this transmission has landed deeply for me, and it continues to integrate, day by day. Maybe a small dose of her essence has also been given to you now, as you are reading this.
In addition to these three essence gifts, there are also a few lessons I take from my friend’s death. I think of them reminders or wake-up calls.
Treat time as precious. Confronted by how fragile life is, I remember how precious our time here is. I feel a growing sense of urgency to do the work that I am meant to do here, without hesitation or procrastination. My tolerance for bullshit has diminished, while my capacity for love and service has expanded. Because we never know how much time we have left. I want to use my time here well.
Care for the physical body. I want to take better care of myself, physically. In reconnecting with how much I love Life, I also want to do things that support me to be thriving in my body for as long as I can. I feel a renewed sense of commitment to tending to the function and vitality of my physical body – whether that means eating better, exercising, or doing regular health checks.
Care for the emotional body. I want to take better care of myself, emotionally. I am reminded that life is too short to dwell in suffering. To me, this means inviting and investing in relationships where we stand sovereign in our own soul-sourced energy, approval and authority. I am devoted to co-creating relating dynamics where everyone involved can be unimpeded in all aspects of humanity: to openly express emotions and communicate needs, to create freely and shine shamelessly. It is an ongoing practice for me to keep choosing relating spaces of honest exchange and mutual generosity.
Thank you for the blessons, dear Mimi.
As someone who is just in the process of loosing her father to cancer, I deeply appreciate your words and have taken them to heart to prepare me for my own grieving journey. Thank you ❤️