Death. It is interesting to me that in just my family alone, we have so many different views and opinions on death. While some of us are willing to speak freely and openly about the death of a loved one, others are completely in denial and never want to even mention the “D” word. Making future arrangements for death in my family for example is almost unheard of!
A few years ago a friend and his family lost their 18 year old son in a drowning accident. It was very tragic and really affected me. I can’t imagine what they went through. At his celebration of life, I learned what a charitable person he was. How kind he was. I saw all of the photos of his travels to Europe and India and pictures of him with the Dalai Lama. Wow! I thought and thought and thought about why it was necessary for these parents to lose their child. Why? I believe that everything happens for a reason but I also believed there could never be a good enough reason for why a parent would have to bury their own child. No parent should ever have to go through that…but then I realized… perhaps; the young 18 year old boy had already fulfilled his life purpose. In the short time that he was here on this Earth, he was the best person he could be. He helped others, he was adventurous. Maybe he had completed all of his life missions that he was ever here to complete and he had learned all of the lessons he had to learn. His Soul had grown.
In more recent years, I lost my grandmother. Now here was a woman that I guess did not successfully complete her life missions or learn her life lessons and until she was 103 years old! Why did it take so long for one person and why was it so soon for the other person? I believe that is just the path we chose for ourselves before we even arrived here in our mother’s uterus. My grandmother was a rather, shall we say “dark” woman. She practiced witchcraft, black magic and who knows what else. She had hatred in her heart and I’m sure she a lot of karmic debt to pay before she was allowed to leave this earth.
My grandmother’s death was an experience for me. I went through almost everything I was told I was going to have to go through… feelings of shock, sadness, guilt, anger, relief, acceptance…ugh!
I paid to have my grandmother’s name engraved on a memorial wall in the Vancouver Cemetery. I did it because I didn’t want there to be absolutely no record of her ever existing. My father claims he threw everything of hers away. Having already an estranged relationship with my dad and not having seen my grandmother in the last twenty years turned out to be difficult enough for me. Now to find out that there was nothing left to commemorate my grandmother left me feeling sad and depressed. I did have some good memories of from when I was a child. She was funny and played with me and told me stories, she was such a good story teller.
When the funeral director told me she didn’t have any clothes to be cremated in, but the hospital gown she died in. I knew that was not going to do. I went and bought her a nice dress, and bolero jacket to be cremated in. I bought her some pearls and jewelry for her because I wanted to make sure she was cremated in something beautiful and glamorous as she always presented herself in life. Then I felt sorry for her. She was once a little girl too. Someone shaped and molded her into the woman she was. My poor grandmother, she wasn’t the greatest woman alive, she was a scary woman. She did some cruel and awful things in her life but…she also always tried to present herself as a glamorous and elegant lady. She was an author, a poet, a singer, an actress and I believe she is the reason why I too love to publicly speak, to sing and act. From what I know of my grandmother, which is not very much, because I was child when I knew her, she used to speak about being bullied and treated poorly by her family. She was isolated and her life was my father, her one and only son, which she had such a toxic relationship with. She adored my dad and yet he abused her and stole from her. She left all of her family and friends in South America behind to come be with her son saying, all she had was him.
When she died, my father passed her ashes on to me. I didn’t know what to do with them and was very uncomfortable keeping them with me so I reluctantly took them until I could figure out what to do with them. At the end of my grandmother’s life, I hadn’t spoken to her in about 20 years but once she died, boy did she talk to me. She knew I had the gift and haunt me she did. But I have a friend that is a very powerful Medium and my grandmother visited her and gave her the clear message I had to do something with her ashes. My grandmother scared my friend so I knew I had to take action. I asked my grandmother what she wanted and she clearly delivered that she just wanted to be with my father.
So I returned her ashes to him and my grandmother hasn’t really visited me since. If she tries, I always chuckle to myself and remind her, all she wanted was to be with her son, so to move on. Being that she was such a scary woman in life, this suited me just fine but like I said, she was once a little girl too and someone shaped and molded her into the woman I knew. This helps me deal with things. I don’t wish to be like her but instead, I thank her for the gifts she did pass down to me and bless and release her. One day, my father will die and I will have to deal with his death and the passing of another “not so good” person in life. I will be as ready as I can be but until then, I will be grateful for all off the gifts he did pass down to me.