Ten Lessons in 2020: Death, Loss + Grief

“At the end of the exhale,
Breath surrenders to quietude,
For a moment you hang in the balance —
Suspended
In the fertile spaciousness
That is the source of breath.”

My teacher Rusty has said for as long as I’ve known him and in so many classes that when you die you are breathed back into the heart of the Beloved — God breathes you back in…

I want to believe this is what happened when she took her last breath. That it was effortless, that it felt easy and full of love, like a love she had never felt before, like she was going home…and even though I feel this could be true it still hurts.

Loss is a painful human truth; it is undeniable.

Our story is a intertwined one, as are most stories of sisters; I have always felt deeply connected to her. When I told her she was my favorite she looked at me and said, “I know, I’m everyone’s favorite,” and it was true. It wasn’t because she was easy to love, it was because she was born from the stars and we all knew it.

The grief my family is moving through right now is palpable, it comes in waves and when it hits there is nothing you can do but let it take you down. For weeks after she left us I couldn’t see anyone or go anywhere because the wave of grief would hit without notice and I was suddenly overcome with deep pain and uncontrollable tears. It has been interesting to watch how grief touches each of us differently; it is possessive, careful, poignant…a thick, heavy new reality that I’m not sure we will ever fully move through.

I lost my sister Liz on August 21st, just three days before her daughter turned four. I know this day and time was set when she came to us 37 years ago, I know that her soul accomplished what it came to do, I know she is at peace and likely already beginning her next adventure. None of this helps to fill the void or eases the pain of missing her.

Death is the final word in the poetry of your life. It is so absolute and so irrational.

“At the end of the inhale,
Filled with the song of breath,
There is a moment when you are simply
Holding the tender mystery.”

I find myself pouring over photos and videos, reading text messages, not wanting to take off her hand-me-downs, thinking about the things I could have done or said, remembering fondly all of the happy times — grief is for the living and it is relentless.

A few years ago I sat with her in a retreat circle in Mexico and witnessed her come home to herself, it will always be the thing I cherish the most - the way her eyes looked when we returned home and she told me that she could feel a remembering of purpose and power.

I don’t know where to put a lot of things about our story right now, I feel it welling and it trust it will pour out of me when the time is right. I know that she has taught me about devotion, about fear, about courage, about healing and conviction. I know that it was an honor to be her sister and to witness her as a mother.

“In these interludes,
Experience opens into exquisite vastness
With no beginning and no end.
Embrace this infinity without reservation.
You are its vessel.”

I love you Liz, and I miss you so much.