10-03-2024, 01:20 AM
I am afraid once I get started, I won't be able to stop myself....
First, I want to extend my sincerest condolences to any and all who have had to endure the loss of a loved one or even a good friend.
Watching someone die is a stark, striking, and immensely stirring thing. I had seen it before, but never so close to my soul as the loss of my wife (of 43 years) and best friend on this Earth last November (2023.)
I will recount a story, but I warn you... I am verbose and never was afforded the gift to 'briefly' condense certain thoughts and feeling, so you may not want to dive into this...
She died at the hospital after having spent many months there (most of the year)... weakening and beset by physical ills she in no way deserved.
She announced her moment, telling me in no uncertain terms that she felt spent and ready to "go."
A bit later it began... I'll spare my account of the event - although it is constantly in my memory... it feels like yesterday... this is an unpleasant post for me.
After her passing, we lingered, myself, my daughter (our oldest) and my son (our youngest.) We each had spoken with her briefly before the end of her life exploded upon us... and somehow we still felt needed to say a proper goodbye - we had hoped this would never happen. Later, we came to be alone in the emergency room where her body remained (finally free of wires and tubing)... We stood over the bed, trying not to focus on her face (which still bore the expression of a final gasp of breath.) Each of us silent... when I said these words...
"I'm so sorry my baby girl... you can go now. I love you."
No more than two seconds pass and the hospital bed alarm (not the equipment) sounded as a ringing beep. (It was the alarm that sounds when you get out of the hospital bed - sensing a change in weight, I suppose.)
I think my daughter (at least) took this to mean her soul was finally withdrawing from her body. That somehow whatever happens when you are actually 'gone' includes a measurable 'loss' of weight, as the soul departs. I never encouraged her in that belief, but I am aware such stories have circulated before.
And I wonder that maybe it was "me" or "us" keeping here there until we got to say "Goodbye mama."
Shit, this is difficult.
I don't really know how real the perception of a soul departing is. Can we really 'feel' the departure? Is it truly measurable and thus detectable? I'm not sure. I am also not sure I want to know...
For me, she is still here in my heart and mind... just out of reach, as if through a window... she's happy I hope... free from illness and limitations of the physical word, I would like to think....
I don't know what this may add to the conversation, or if it has any value to the thread at all... but it is something that at least I consider... when the subject arises.
First, I want to extend my sincerest condolences to any and all who have had to endure the loss of a loved one or even a good friend.
Watching someone die is a stark, striking, and immensely stirring thing. I had seen it before, but never so close to my soul as the loss of my wife (of 43 years) and best friend on this Earth last November (2023.)
I will recount a story, but I warn you... I am verbose and never was afforded the gift to 'briefly' condense certain thoughts and feeling, so you may not want to dive into this...
She died at the hospital after having spent many months there (most of the year)... weakening and beset by physical ills she in no way deserved.
She announced her moment, telling me in no uncertain terms that she felt spent and ready to "go."
A bit later it began... I'll spare my account of the event - although it is constantly in my memory... it feels like yesterday... this is an unpleasant post for me.
After her passing, we lingered, myself, my daughter (our oldest) and my son (our youngest.) We each had spoken with her briefly before the end of her life exploded upon us... and somehow we still felt needed to say a proper goodbye - we had hoped this would never happen. Later, we came to be alone in the emergency room where her body remained (finally free of wires and tubing)... We stood over the bed, trying not to focus on her face (which still bore the expression of a final gasp of breath.) Each of us silent... when I said these words...
"I'm so sorry my baby girl... you can go now. I love you."
No more than two seconds pass and the hospital bed alarm (not the equipment) sounded as a ringing beep. (It was the alarm that sounds when you get out of the hospital bed - sensing a change in weight, I suppose.)
I think my daughter (at least) took this to mean her soul was finally withdrawing from her body. That somehow whatever happens when you are actually 'gone' includes a measurable 'loss' of weight, as the soul departs. I never encouraged her in that belief, but I am aware such stories have circulated before.
And I wonder that maybe it was "me" or "us" keeping here there until we got to say "Goodbye mama."
Shit, this is difficult.
I don't really know how real the perception of a soul departing is. Can we really 'feel' the departure? Is it truly measurable and thus detectable? I'm not sure. I am also not sure I want to know...
For me, she is still here in my heart and mind... just out of reach, as if through a window... she's happy I hope... free from illness and limitations of the physical word, I would like to think....
I don't know what this may add to the conversation, or if it has any value to the thread at all... but it is something that at least I consider... when the subject arises.
