Angels By The Bedside

Death is out of the closet more these days than in the past, but it’s still not viewed as a natural process of life. The challenge lies in the understanding of what changes and that which never changes.

For instance, my body, my possessions, the people around me are all subject to a momentary disappearing act, and could be gone at any time. I may as well accept that. My life will be much easier if I do.

But the silence and peace that is of God/ess that I access during meditation is changeless and permanent. My body and possessions and all the people in my life are impermanent. The more I access the peace, love and forgiveness that IS god/ess, then when a loss occurs, which it will most assuredly, then I will be equipped to stand with strength against this adversity.

I am one of those people who finds the passing of people from this life to the next to be an enlightening experience. I was with my mother when she passed. WOW!! What power! The entire room filled with light, her spirit moved noticeably up and out from the top of her head, and the 73 year old body that remained lost all its wrinkles. My dear mum looked like a fourteen year old princess.

Then for a day or two, I felt true unconditional love and compassion for everyone and everything that came my way. I’ll never forget that. Of course, ordinary grieving took place around me for my mother. My father had much fear and doubt about true matters of the spirit so we comforted him the best we could. But my mother had many spiritual women friends with whom I could share my experience.

When the experience receded and I returned to ordinary, everyday consciousness, I never forgot what happened. I will draw upon it for insight when the time arises in the future for another major loss. The gifts of spiritual recovery make it possible to see the miracles of life and death.

The same great feeling of eternal intimacy occurred around the death bed of my father’s sister.

A group of us held a vigil around that bed: her son, my cousin; his son and his wife and her mother; my husband Tom, and me.

We told stories about her life and the part we all played, while she slipped deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

My uncle was a bishop in the Episcopalian church. Episcopalian clergy visited our gathering every hour. They would say a prayer, then join in the discourse for a few minutes, to return some sixty minutes later.

That three day period was an exercise in joyous comradery.

The angels were there.

Those who had gone before were also there.

My aunt had lost a son and a grandson many years before.

They were there.

Then, the time came, and my Aunt went on to join those who were waiting.

Those three days were over. We had to return to the world where death is not discussed. Or if it is, it’s seen as a calamity and disaster.

Certainly, to tell the story as I experienced it: that those three days were probably the most meaningful and beautiful three days of my life, was honest, but censored information.

But I saw first hand the following truth:

That the body is a garment that we shed at the moment of death. Conscious contact with God/ess is a skill that when practiced, enriches our understanding of death, grief and life.

There is no right or wrong way to deal with these issues.

Sometimes the only way is through it, like when a baby is born.

As a Labor and Delivery nurse, I’ve been around many birthing beds. The difference between the birth and death bed is negligible.

The Angels and unseen forces are present both places and times.

The healing that is possible is beyond understanding.