I have always had a fear of death. Over time I’ve let this fear seep in every crack of my heart like water and let it over come me. When I was about 12 years old our next door neighbor died. She meant a lot to my family and she was a great woman and family friend. She kept my brother when I was born and could make the best gumbo. For Halloween she gave us fruit instead of candy. Her house was always immaculate. She was a kind and gentle woman.
My mother wanted to go to the funeral but knew ahead of time she wouldn’t be able to go. My mother hesitated but decided to go, to the viewing, in place of going to the funeral. I was afraid to go because I could feel that my Momma was afraid. I had been to a funeral as a little girl but had no memory of it. So this would be my first time seeing and remembering a dead body. I was freaked out and thinking all kinds of crazy things.
My mother and I both walked in holding hands like we had seen a ghost and only in the lobby of the mortuary. We signed in and one of the funeral people told us where to go see our neighbor. As we began walking to the chapel I could feel the anxiety and curiosity building up in my chest and mind. What will she look like? Will I recognize her? I wonder what her body feels like if I touch it? I hope the body doesn’t move while I’m standing next to her. How can people work here around dead bodies?
As soon as we walked in the room and could see her casket I could feel love, calm and peace. She had her rosary beads in her hands. She had on a light pink gown. She was glowing. I knew that all was well. My mother and I kneeled down and looked her over. In that moment my mother and I agreed that she looked great. We left feeling better than when we came. We were glad we did go.
Today, I am still learning to let go of that fear and allow. Death is one of those things that still haunts me even though I know more and have a little more experience and understanding under my belt. But it is hard. January 4th marks two years since the death of my father and the memory has brought the fear back home to my heart and has made me even more curious about the death process. What happens when you die? What happens after you die? What happens when you reach the other side and who is there? Do people look the same and are they in the same body? The more questions, the more I discover that the fear of dying is more powerful than the act of dying.
Our world is so vast and has so much beauty that it’s impossible for us to see and experience all it’s wonder. Why can’t death be more of a true happy celebration and why are we so consumed with it on TV and why has my condition taught me fear? Why don’t we embrace death? All questions I may never get an answer to or have the answer to, but not aware, yet.
During my father’s funeral I felt like I was a watcher of everything that was going on. Some of my family members were extremely dramatic, some overcome with grief. I had grieved for months before his death. I had cried for my father for years because I was holding onto his pain. A pain that was not mine. When he died that pain became his again and I was able to let go. When I saw his body the first time I knew that he was okay and that he is somewhere else on another journey, that in this life, I cannot understand. I know that he is with me, now, in a new way. He is always present in spirit when I call on him. Like my personal angel.
Death is a reminder of life and that life should be lived. Death is really the fear of letting go of what is… causing pain in our life. Every moment we have fear we are dying and giving away precious life. When we should allow our spirits to be free of pain. Death has taught me to live my life loving others hard, to be present to life, create more joy for myself, being kind to others, grateful for each moment, to live in the stillness of all, and allow the spaces of life to cover me in this classroom we call life.
©2016 by Allura Eshmun