Be Light When Death Comes

“Just be honest with yourself and do whatever you believe in. No one knows what may hold in the future, but a true faith will always prevail.” My father commented on my last post a fortnight ago.

That was one of the last things he shared with me before he abruptly left the earthly realm, on the same day as he arrived 70 years ago.

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

Life is precious and sacred. And short.

When I was young, I thought that life was like this long, straight line that would go on forever. I naively believed that I would have plenty of time to do everything – study, get a university degree, climb the corporate ladder, travel the world, fall in love, get married, raise a family, celebrate milestone birthdays, and eventually, spend the last days with loved ones by my side.

The reality is we never know when we will say goodbye to this life that we have envisioned and worked hard to create. Our existence is interdependent on everything on this planet and beyond – every being, every object, every particle, and every wave of energy. In this intricate web of complex systems, we can never predict what awaits us in the future. Everyday can be our last day.

Many of us are so afraid of death and loss that we get caught in the relentless pursuit of control, power, possession, and permanence. Here’s the paradox: the tighter we try to hold on to something – whether it is a person, an object, or an idea, the further we move away from the truth – the abundance, beauty and wholeness that already exist in our human experience, every inhale and exhale in the present moment.

When my father was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer 12 months ago, we were aware that the prognosis was not good. We made sure we spent as much quality time together as possible. We talked openly about death and put all affairs in order. Yet nothing could have prepared us for the deep pain and sorrow as we watched him took his last breath peacefully in the intensive care unit last week.

My head hurts and my heart even more.

Where do I go now when I need help with interpreting Buddhist scriptures? Who do I talk to now about big, worldly ideas, from philosophy to religions, politics to quantum physics? What do I do now when I need his wise counsel to help navigate life’s dilemmas?

There are so many memories I want to write about, so many feelings I want to express, and yet I am at a loss for words. All I can do now is to seek refuge in poetry.

What Death Comes by Mary Oliver

When death comes

like the hungry bear in autumn;

when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;

when death comes

like the measle-pox

when death comes

like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:

what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything

as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,

and I look upon time as no more than an idea,

and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common

as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,

tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something

precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder

if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,

or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

Photo by Prateek Gautam on Unsplash

(P.S. I am putting a pause on writing to give myself space to grieve, as well as to support my family during this sad and difficult time. Thank you for your support and understanding.)