Before She Dies; After We Die

Before She Dies; After We Die 

We are all saying that our friend is dying. Yes, a woman with pancreatic cancer knows her end is near and she is facing her mortality. But as she is dying, she is really living. She lives each moment knowing each one counts. Her grace and dignity inspire me. Our conversation today was meaningful and deep, yet at the same time, light and airy.

Dying is a process of letting go. She is letting go of her judgments. She is letting go of her attachment to her earthly belongings. She is letting go of issues. She is letting go of fears. She seems to be in a state of constantly letting go… until inevitably she will be letting go of life itself, her last breath.

Today in our conversation, I found myself bursting spontaneously into song. First it was, “I can see clearly now…” and I had to look up the words. Here they are:

 "I Can See Clearly Now"

When people die, they say they go towards the light. I am happy that song popped into my head. Am I seeing more clearly now, or is that an illusion? If I am  seeing more clearly now, what is it all about? Maybe I was just a mirror for her that she is seeing more clearly now.

Peace and anxiety coexist in an ever-changing pattern, like the churning of the ocean waves and the crashing on the rocks while simultaneously breathing in the ocean air as a calming balm over my soul. 

Later on, I said something to my friend, and then she took back what I said as her own, and I started singing, “As you give to me and I give to you, true love, true love.” 

Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly sang this song in the movie “High Society” starring Bing Crosby, Grace Kelly, Frank Sinatra, and Louis Armstrong.

I love my friend. She has had an enormous impact on my life. She introduced me to water aerobics belts; and as I travel the world, I go in oceans, seas, and pools with a relaxation I never knew before.  I don’t need to fear panicking in the water. I have my crutch: my water aerobics belt (or an inflatable noodle) that keep me up. Often the salt water makes me so buoyant I would not really need one on a physical level, but try to convince my consciousness of that!

We all have an impact on each other, however big or small, however aware or not we are. Having (another!) friend die younger than me (she will make ten!), sometimes I wonder if I am in a state of acceptance or denial. Can anyone ever get used to people they love die? Last year, my husband and I had thirteen people die (all ages—62 to 97), and this year only two (62 and 67). I have been at the bedside of three people as they took their last breath. I am happy to be there for my friend—if she would want me there. She seemed to think today that she wants to die alone. Time will tell. My sisters and I thought my mother maybe hung on so long because we were hovering; maybe she wanted to be alone to die. So we shut our bedroom doors her last night, but she woke us with a death rattle so loud we all awoke. Obviously she wanted us to be at her side. We won’t know what my friend will want until it happens… if I am even in town when she dies.

Colin Ingram wrote a book called After We Die: An Extraordinary Description of the Afterlife. I am going to read it over our five-week holiday vacation. I just opened the book randomly to read one paragraph. My my. It is going to be an extraordinary read. After thirteen people died last year, and then early this year one of my best friends and her husband shot themselves in a mutual suicide pact, I just have not wanted to think about death. But the time has come for me to read it... when I am on vacation. Right now, though, for the next two weeks while I am in town, I am going to devote my time and attention to “Before She Dies.” Who knows? Maybe reading After We Die after my friend dies will open my consciousness in ways unforeseen. The author, Colin Ingram, anticipates his readers will be "surprised, even stunned."