As my grandfather prepared to pass, the space between his breaths became longer and the breath itself more shallow. I was 26 at the time and remember the reed like quality of his exhales, how he almost sounded like the breeze moving through seaside grasses. All of his children were at his bedside and many of his grandchildren too. He remembered my name when I laid my hand on his paper-thin cheek.
My grandfather had been a university professor and one of the founders of the physical education department. His whole life had been filled with movement, activity, and vitality. At the end of his earth experience, he seemed like a different person. He seemed to be in between here and wherever the next stop was, and I was surprised to find myself deeply curious. What did he sense as he approached the portal between being in a body and moving into the spirit realm? What did he feel? The closest word I have to describe my feeling, was wonder.
I will never forget his last breath, listening for the inhale that never came after a long and trailing exhale. The stillness and reverence that filled the room was palpable and I felt as though I could sense him very much still in the space with us, waiting for something to happen. If ever there was a time to pause and simply be, it was then.
Of course Death is not always so well curated. It can come unexpectedly and many of us could argue, too soon for those who leave young or without their consent. As a natural part of the life cycle on earth, without exposure to death, many of us miss the profound offerings it has to offer the living. If we do spend any time thinking about it, we feel afraid.
That’s very normal too. In fact, clinging to life is one of the greatest challenges for humans to overcome according the Yoga Sutras.
I’m not suggesting that we obsess over the fact that we’re all getting off this planet the same way, however I do know that being in the presence of Death has taught me to contemplate how I want to spend my time on Earth. For me, I now know that I want to be able to say at the end of my life, “I LIVED and I am so grateful.”
You know, start with the end in mind and work backwards in designing your life. What does it mean to “LIVE” and how do I cultivate gratitude every day?
Death has also shown me the power of surrender. I used to think surrendering meant giving up, but thanks to having profound experiences of witnessing someone passing, I believe it is closer to choosing to ride the wave instead of kicking against it.
There is no denying it is a wave of epic proportions, and with that comes a true encounter with the Unknown, but that is all the more reason to spend our lives cultivating an active relationship with wonder and practicing the choice to let ourselves be carried by the waves of Life.
Pema Chodron said that suffering is caused by our resistance to what is. Death, like the process of birth, is an inevitability and it will happen to all of us. As someone who has given birth, I can truthfully say that resisting the expansive waves rippling through my body only led to greater discomfort because it was happening whether I clenched down or not.
Death can help us remember to relax, breathe, and surf the waves that Life is constantly moving through us. Life, like Death, happens whether we resist, dance, or lean into all the flavors of the moment. The amazing thing to me is that we get to choose HOW we want to respond to the inevitability of Life and Death. They are essentially two sides of the same coin, enhancing and informing each other.
The outcome is certain but how we get there is optional. The choice is ours.
