It’s been too long since my last blog entry, and for that I humbly apologize. I won’t make excuses for my absence, but will instead dive right in….
My mother’s sister, Anne, passed away on Friday morning, 14 October 2005, at approximately 8 a.m. PDT. She had been diagnosed with secondary metastasized melanoma in December of last year, with the original cancer having been treated and eradicated some thirty-five years prior. I wrote briefly about her decision to embrace the dying part of life in a previous entry: death with dignity (23 March 2005).
I had the opportunity to spend two weekends visiting with my aunt this year?in May and September. Although she had even won a local golf tournament in June, by September it was evident that she would be leaving soon. She was always in good spirits, though, laughing and making jokes about her deteriorating health and speaking very candidly about her experience. I don’t think I once heard her complain about any regrets in her life.
My mother was able to be present in the room with Anne when she passed. Although I had attuned my mother to reiki years ago, she hadn’t felt called to use it (consciously) before that particular morning. She gently laid her hands on her sister’s feet, which had grown cold to the touch, and quietly helped push her sister’s energy up and out, helping her to sever her remaining ties to her body. My mother reported that she kept feeling resistance at the heart, until Anne breathed a final, peaceful sigh?in sharp contrast the labored, spasmodic breathing that had characterized the previous few days?and that was it.
Anne is finally free, at long last. I found myself sobbing in both mourning and relief. I am so glad I had the opportunity to say my goodbyes to her, and am so very grateful that my mother was able to be present for her, to act as midwife to her passing.
Although the memorial service will not be held until late October, I felt the need that Friday morning to honor in my own way the transition of this great woman. It was a misty morning here in metro-Portland, and I lit a candle and walked over to the grove of trees on the community property. This simple place has become the sanctuary I retreat to when I am in need of solitude, inspiration, and the like. I sat on the ground, surrounded by dewed grass and glinting spider webs, as I placed the candle before me and said my blessings for my aunt’s life and her transition.
She was an amazing woman, a psychologist who worked mainly in family reconstruction. I’m still in awe of the passion which characterized her life, as well as the manner in which she spent her last months, harnessing her own dying process as a means of helping to bring other family members together to heal our wounds?some deeply entrenched?to free us from those bonds so that we might embrace the time we have.
I don’t know that I ever saw her truly say “No,” either to living or dying.
Thank you all for your love and support during this time. I would not have been able to be so strong for my mother if not for my friends?even those I’ve never met?backing me up. I love you all; you are very precious to me.