I sometimes think one of the main reasons we are born in this world is to embody love, and all that goes with it: the joy, the hurt and, ultimately, the loss. Indeed, all who love in this world will grieve its loss some day, whether it be for a child, a sibling, a parent, a partner, a friend.
I’d like to believe the love we have for people in our lives transcends our mortal frames and carries over into future lives when we meet up again, as ancient wisdom teaches us. I do believe it, innately. There are people I’ve met in my current life whom I felt I had known forever.
Maggie’s mom believed it, too. Her name was Lily, and she passed away peacefully Thursday at the ripe old age of 99.
Lily, Maggie and I had talked about it a couple of months ago, when Lily lie in a hospital bed. We’d meet in a pub in Scotland the next time round, we agreed. Lily and Maggie were both born there, and I have Scottish blood on my dad’s side.
Maggie and I are feeling somewhat numb on this Saturday, Maggie more so than me, as you would expect. She was a faithful daughter who enabled her mom to live independently until late this summer.
There will be a void in Maggie’s life now, though she knows she was blessed to have her mom in her life for so long and we are at an age now where it won’t be that much longer before it is our turn to pass through the veil to the other side.
Our belief systems may help us get through times like these, but it still hurts when loved ones pass away — no matter their age.
Still, in my heart, I know the following to be true:
“That which men call death is but a change of location for the Ego, a mere transformation, a forsaking for a time of the mortal frame, a short period of rest before one reassumes another human frame in the world of mortals. The Lord of this body is nameless; dwelling in numerous tenements of clay, it appears to come and go; but neither death nor time can claim it, for it is deathless, unchangeable, and pure, beyond Time itself, and not to be measured.” – W.Q. Judge
Rest in peace, Lily.
Until we meet again . . .