A memorial of joy and light
This memorial service that we attended today was moving, compelling, and inspiring. I've got to say, it's how I'd love to have people respond when my time to leave this realm comes. When we arrived at the church, the program read "A Celebration of the Life of Anneliese and Charles" and it was a beautifully done service. In place of religious prayer cards, the laminated cards contained poetry by Walt Whitman and a photo of sunshine reflected upon a lake. The daughter and brother of Jim's stepfather (Charles) each got up and spoke beautiful eulogies, talked about how Anneliese and Charles were both artists, Anneliese an award-winning Master Model Ship Builder (didn't know that was a category before today), and Charles an avid carpenter and gardener. Both musicians, and both deeply in love with one another. Excellent neighbors. Opened their homes to all. Those who spoke of them spoke of their deep spirituality in terms of their sharing of their light with all in their lives.... despite them being "non-religious" and "pagan" (not actually Pagan, but called pagan by the older members of their Catholic family for nonconformity). It was a "Christian" service which transcended religion and catapulted us into true Unity. The service included all - in fact, the Vicar (who was a WOMAN, YEAH) welcomed all who came out to show their love and support of the family, included in her opening of "all faiths" such paths as "Christian, Judaic, Muslim, even Druid" to which we quietly smiled.
Hearing each person speak about the memory of their loved ones was in no way dampened by heaviness of heart. The light of Anneliese and Charles was ever-present, which truly illustrated the immortal nature of our souls and our Divine Potential. I know that as I listened to the loving and heartfelt descriptions of these two and their actions, it inspired me to be ever more conscious about my relationships, my connection to Spirit. Their relationship was sacred, they loved life together, and they died together. Despite the brutal nature of their deaths (Hurricane Katrina wiped out their entire neighborhood - the whole block reduced to rubble) nobody dwelled upon the what ifs. It was quite simple; they heard the evacuation orders and made a conscious decision to stay at home and accept whatever outcome. They wanted to be together, and they were okay with dying. Charles (85) wrote a letter to his family on Aug. 11 which his brother read to us at the service. He spoke in an eerily knowing way about his life winding down to a close, appreciating all that he had in life, loving family, finding connection in spirit without need for religion, and being truly okay with death. This is not uncommon in my observation to note that a person who dies in an 'accident' has a finite resolution with their mortal experience and shares this with their loved ones in the weeks/months leading up to their death.
To see and spend time with Jim was a gift. Although he was indeed sad after losing his mother, as now both of his birth parents are gone, he was so cheered by the presence of us, his friends and loved ones. He was able to laugh along with us and be present in the moment. A nun who spoke at the eulogy service looked over at us with an enormous grin and bright eyes as she saw Jim alive in the moment.
Do we as a culture feel the need to act/be/prolong sadness during the time of mourning a death? True, death is a grievous loss and should not necessarily be taken lightly. The process of losing a loved one is an extremely individual one, and depending on the complexity of the relationship, could be a long and painful period of sadness. I in no way mean to minimize this process. Yet I notice for some, the ability to live in lightness and joy can inspire and elevate those in their lives so that when their mortal life ends, what remains is a joyful memory, an infinite gleam like sunlight, laughter. This is what I experienced at St. Thomas's Episcopal Church today. I actually felt completely connected to the Divine, something I've NEVER EVER felt while sitting in any religious building. Not Christian churches, not Jewish temples, and no, not even Hindu temples. Even though I love the statuary in the Hindu temples, I haven't felt the spark of the Divine while attending service in one.
Today I found great strength and inspiration in a most unlikely place - that is, unlikely for me, self-confessed heathen who used to squirm in my seat at weddings and church-based events. And this church happened to be goddamned gorgeous! Ancient medieval-style church, tiny in size and carved out of stone and concrete in such a way as to blow this little mind. Stained glass windows which, if gazed upon correctly, illuminated the wings of Angel Gabriel with a flicker here and a shadow there based on how the winds outside blew the trees by the sun. It's the kind of church I used to dream about living in. I know I said I didn't like churches, but it was more about the actual dogma happening inside. The really old buildings with stained glass and little alcoves, nooks and crannies, I could really reside in one of those.
But I digress. My heart was filled with goodness today and it was such a pleasant surprise to me. My desire is to always be conscious with my husband and family, as well as friends and people in my life, to look upon all with a neighborly sense of love and honoring them without needing to react, raise my voice, or lose my balance. This inspiration is Divine.
Hearing each person speak about the memory of their loved ones was in no way dampened by heaviness of heart. The light of Anneliese and Charles was ever-present, which truly illustrated the immortal nature of our souls and our Divine Potential. I know that as I listened to the loving and heartfelt descriptions of these two and their actions, it inspired me to be ever more conscious about my relationships, my connection to Spirit. Their relationship was sacred, they loved life together, and they died together. Despite the brutal nature of their deaths (Hurricane Katrina wiped out their entire neighborhood - the whole block reduced to rubble) nobody dwelled upon the what ifs. It was quite simple; they heard the evacuation orders and made a conscious decision to stay at home and accept whatever outcome. They wanted to be together, and they were okay with dying. Charles (85) wrote a letter to his family on Aug. 11 which his brother read to us at the service. He spoke in an eerily knowing way about his life winding down to a close, appreciating all that he had in life, loving family, finding connection in spirit without need for religion, and being truly okay with death. This is not uncommon in my observation to note that a person who dies in an 'accident' has a finite resolution with their mortal experience and shares this with their loved ones in the weeks/months leading up to their death.
To see and spend time with Jim was a gift. Although he was indeed sad after losing his mother, as now both of his birth parents are gone, he was so cheered by the presence of us, his friends and loved ones. He was able to laugh along with us and be present in the moment. A nun who spoke at the eulogy service looked over at us with an enormous grin and bright eyes as she saw Jim alive in the moment.
Do we as a culture feel the need to act/be/prolong sadness during the time of mourning a death? True, death is a grievous loss and should not necessarily be taken lightly. The process of losing a loved one is an extremely individual one, and depending on the complexity of the relationship, could be a long and painful period of sadness. I in no way mean to minimize this process. Yet I notice for some, the ability to live in lightness and joy can inspire and elevate those in their lives so that when their mortal life ends, what remains is a joyful memory, an infinite gleam like sunlight, laughter. This is what I experienced at St. Thomas's Episcopal Church today. I actually felt completely connected to the Divine, something I've NEVER EVER felt while sitting in any religious building. Not Christian churches, not Jewish temples, and no, not even Hindu temples. Even though I love the statuary in the Hindu temples, I haven't felt the spark of the Divine while attending service in one.
Today I found great strength and inspiration in a most unlikely place - that is, unlikely for me, self-confessed heathen who used to squirm in my seat at weddings and church-based events. And this church happened to be goddamned gorgeous! Ancient medieval-style church, tiny in size and carved out of stone and concrete in such a way as to blow this little mind. Stained glass windows which, if gazed upon correctly, illuminated the wings of Angel Gabriel with a flicker here and a shadow there based on how the winds outside blew the trees by the sun. It's the kind of church I used to dream about living in. I know I said I didn't like churches, but it was more about the actual dogma happening inside. The really old buildings with stained glass and little alcoves, nooks and crannies, I could really reside in one of those.
But I digress. My heart was filled with goodness today and it was such a pleasant surprise to me. My desire is to always be conscious with my husband and family, as well as friends and people in my life, to look upon all with a neighborly sense of love and honoring them without needing to react, raise my voice, or lose my balance. This inspiration is Divine.