Sacredness of Death

The rain fell gently today. Messy, cold, disruptive and yet beautiful. Reminds me of Richard. A close friend of more than 35 years had called me yesterday morning to speak of her continued grief and challenges in journeying with her dying father; she and her mother, siblings and extended family. While on the phone the call came in - her father had gently passed away. More quiet tears. Messy because we should not want someone to die; messy because Richard had been in a waking coma for more than 9 months; messy because the best and the worst in each of them emerged. Yet death is sacred, gentle while violent, a journey. Let the tears flow.