Callas are symbols of both rebirth and death. They die back each year, but the next year, they're stronger, more beautiful, and more plentiful than the year before. |
So as in life, so as in death.
As humans, we are ever-changing, moment-by-moment, with every breath. As humans, we attach identity and meaning, but we choose these, either consciously or unconsciously.
Our circumstances are also impermanent. And this is all good news.
May is a month of anniversaries for me: the week after Mother's Day is the anniversary of my mom's death—this year marks 19 years. Her sister, who preceded her in death by several years, also left her earthly body in May. There are more.
I currently have friends who just lost or are about to lose their closest relationships—one whose father recently transitioned, another whose parents are nearing their final days, and another whose date with death is literally planned through a MAID, or Medical Assistance in Death. It's not an easy time for many.
The gift of presence
Death is hard for those who are left behind.
On the same side of anguish, however, is presence. Death changes us, marks us, and shifts our perspective, reminding us of our own impermanence. Which makes today, our present moment, that much more meaningful and precious.
On the other side of anguish is gratitude—for the moment, for our current experience, and for the future we still get to create. For the memories and gifts of those who left.
On the other side of loss is forgiveness—for words unsaid, deeds undone, and grace not given.
Parallel to pain is beauty—without pain, we cannot experience joy, happiness, contentment, nor peace.
Physical loss is real, however the gifts that accompany that loss never leave us. We gain perspective. We grow appreciation. We soften over time as memories fade but feelings remain. We gain compassion and empathy, and are more likely to see others from a widened point of view.
And, just as we are impermanent, so are our circumstances. There are other losses in my life right now. Changes at work and home, with friends and family.
Impermanence serves us. We are not stuck. We can change how we think about our experience, change our response, and see our circumstances through a new lens.
While loss of loved ones is truly one of the hardest things ever, I will always be grateful for change. Change is hopeful. Change is interesting, bringing meaning, substance and expansiveness from which we grow and learn. I wouldn't want to be the person I was in my youth, or even 20 years ago. Ugh! I am SO grateful for change. I have gained wisdom and experience that only comes with age and change.
Good, bad, or otherwise, change happens, and our best option, for our highest and greatest good, is to find our way to peace with that. We must go through—there is no shortcut. If you're struggling with change, or the idea of impermanence, Buddhist sage Pema Chodron may be the preeminent authority and her foundation has many useful resources.
We must embrace the anguish, the bittersweet experience that engulfs all loss. Mourn what was. Miss our loved ones. And trust that on the other side, life has its sweet rewards. There are still precious memories to make. Experiences to have. People to meet. I love yous to say. We will grow through loss, gain much, and love ourselves and each other that much more for it.
Without impermanence, there would be no life.
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