When I was twelve a woman I had grown particularly close to, my grandmother died. I felt internally bereft and walking around the farm I struggled to make sense of her leaving. There wasn’t a lot of discussion surrounding her passing, however, I do remember my father finding me, taking my hand and saying, “look up.” At that point, out of the many stars one seemed to stand out, sparkling a bit brighter and shimmering in the night sky far from city lights. He said, “there’s your grandmother.” It was so simple. Were we looking at the same star? A surge of warmth from my father’s hand, rippled through my hand up my arm and through my body. And I felt embraced in something akin to a flannel blanket while staring at that night sky. I re-claim that vision when someone close to me passes. It eases the loss and softens the pain because I know they are nearby just in a different form.
Thank you Diana! I’m sharing this with the Hidden Monastery Facebook Group