As I work through this process...slowly and with as much patience as I can dig up, I have resisted posting on this particular Blog, as it is meant to foster Joy and not add to anything "less than". As the days have gone by, however, I've realized that there is a part the mourning process that is Joyful. Because, as I walk through it, I am filled with both...Joy and Sadness.

The Sadness is for my Self. For the part of me that hasn't yet come full swing into the knowing that I am always whole and always loved, regardless of the physical presence or absence of a loved one. I know it...in my mind, that is, but the feeling part of it is not yet anchored. The feeling part is in discord with the knowing part. And so...it is a process.

I think we all have our own ways of dealing with Death. Just as we are all unique, special in our own way, so then are the ways in which we deal with Death. We find our way through, moment by moment...even when some of those moments feel as if they're a year and a half long. Perhaps it is the shock of it all. When Death arrives, unannounced and without fanfare, it is such a surprise. So the shock leads to denial. And then...usually, to anger. This go 'round, though, there has been neither anger nor denial for me. Only shock...and then the vacillating ride of sadness and joy. I am sad because he's not here. I am sad because I can't touch him or play with him or brush him now. I am sad because there was something about him that made something about me very different. But must I lose that, even in his absence? Can I not keep that part of me that he helped grow...even as he flies in the Great Elsewhere?

The Joy is from having had the time to be with him. To help him recover from his own maladies and horrors, of which there were many. To have been able to help him heal, and allow him to help me heal. And then, to watch him flourish under the love and caring from not only myself, but the others around us. He was so happy here. For the first time in his life, he was happy and safe and allowed to be who he was. It showed on his face and in his eyes. It was even heard in his sassy, funny voice. Yes, he was happy and I was a part of that. The lessons he taught me and the way he taught them...all contribute to the Joyful part of this process. So, back and forth, back and forth, sad and joyful, sad and joyful...allowing the feelings to come and not resist any part of them. Just to BE...as I travel the road called Death.

I am not afraid of Death any more. Nor am I unaware of how beautiful a process even it can be. I watched it happen...and it was beautiful. I've never been able to understand that before now. To hear someone say Death was beautiful always sounded so dumb to me. That was before I witnessed this one...before I saw the love in his eyes as he took that last breath and left. What an amazing thing to behold. What a gift to have been a part of.

Death may not be a welcomed guest, but it is nothing to fear. It is, perhaps, merely another way to remind us of just how precious every moment is. Every single moment...even the sad ones.