December 8, 2021
As I rode my trike through my neighbourhood this winter morning, I noticed my next door neighbour walking her dog in the distance. I rode up to greet her with the hope of chatting about the rush of the time, which happened to be Christmas preparation. She seemed happy to see me but instead of talking about the season, she told me that she was in intense pain because she was grieving the loss of two very intimate family members - both having transitioned within a short period of one another. She told me that she had attended a collective memorial ceremony at a nearby church but that not much comfort was achieved. She was still dealing with acute grief.
In my efforts to comfort and ease her pain, I quickly told her that she must let herself believe that her loved ones are in a safer place and space.
We chatted about the difficulties of speaking about passing and death. I reminded her that where there is life there must be death. It is inevitable.
I then promised to share with her a piece that I had recently written in case of own my demise. A piece that I had shared with a number of people who had were feeling similar pain. I shared the written piece with her.
Here it is:
On Passing
When I pass this space and move on to a higher place
Do not stand by my shell, and weep
I am not there
I’m gone to a new sphere
I do not sleep, and I am not beneath your feet
I am a thousand winds that blow to warm your beautiful cheek
I am blessed and circling around your street
Do not stand by my shell and weep
I am the diamond glint on snow where you draw energy to grow
I am the butterfly that flirts and hovers around your every sudden move
I am the sunshine on ripened grain exposed in the gentle autumn rain
Do not stand by my shell and weep
Do not stand by my corpse and cry
I am not there,
I did not die
I am floating in the sky
But,
I am far and very high
But l will meet you again , I’ll try
I’ll try
when you are next in line.
I promise
We’ll meet again because you are so divine