Insomnia kept me stirring late these past few nights, wide-eyed and blinking at the stardust. My heart has been extra soft, gushy and pained these past two weeks as if all the sunshine in my life has illuminated the path of grief and loss. I feel more now than I did those first months after my father’s death. A friend offered some enlightenment; perhaps as I move out of pure survival mode I find myself in a place where support is strong, gifts are abundant and thus the grieving process amps up since I can process more.
The Cosmos is right there with me, spinning an ever-perfect web. For instance, just last week Hospice held a special memorial tribute in the beautiful stained glass adorned chapel at the hospital. All those who passed away under Hospice care during the first six months of this year were acknowledged. A young pregnant musician accompanied the service with her sweet clear voice and guitar, two ministers conducted the memorial. My mom, Paul, the kids and I took up a whole row in the tiny chapel. Sun shone through the two story stained glass chapel wall. Stunning. A fountain splashed soothingly – a water whisper affirming life; cycles, continuity and comfort.
Just a few moons ago I spent time alone in the chapel during my father’s brief hospital stay. After a routine doctor appointment Dad had been admitted to the hospital for tests. That evening Dad and I were told that he had fourth stage pancreatic cancer. Early the next morning I visited the chapel just after the sun came up. I completed a series of Sun Salutations (yoga) right there on the chapel floor with the soothing fountain coaching me to take deep breaths, find my center and focus on love. Here I was in that chapel again for a memorial service surrounded by my new family, sitting next to my little mother and listening to the fountain while taking deep breaths.