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Us humans are an interesting collective.
Searching for the truth, we send astronauts to the moon, shoot rockets to space to explore the unknown, look for answers in the abyss, so thirsty for knowledge and understanding.
Yet generally assumptive, easily swayed to believe someone else’s truth if its plausible and from a trusted sourced (although these days a trusted source is no longer an expert but google or social media), and often have biased opinions which are shared without fact checking. A strange time bending to the will of the minority, allowing the woke mentality to rise and spew forth and create disruption. But the silent majority usually flex their will when its time.
Amongst all this upheaval of life, when we address death so many have a blind belief in faith, in religions, believing that mankind will be saved, or reincarnated, or released to heaven.
People don’t usually discuss death, perhaps as there is some fear attached to it, or just because we don’t understand it, it’s a huge unknown, a little frightening, a shadow that hangs over us. We all know that to live, our lives will end. But more than that we do not know.
No-one can say ‘I’m not ready to die because no one has proven what happens after’ or that ‘I will not die until I know for sure’. When its time, its out of our control, and it just happens.
Life is such a mystery, it just unfolds, a roller coaster ride of happiness and heartache, success and defeat, unbridled joy and immense sadness. The one thing we humans do know is that we grow old (hopefully) and then leave this world, and beyond that we have absolutely no idea. This is why some seek answers, and others have faith.
After reading the Sunday paper an article gave me strange comfort and started a conversation that was deeply personal and emotional – because we had to say goodbye and watch our dearest depart.
After Laila died, I searched for answers, for an understanding of why, and where to. I read books, meditated, went to church, joined circles, attended healings, and painted my heartache onto canvas. There were no answers or revelations, but I met some wonderful, amazing people along the way.
So, when Aidan was diagnosed, I just took each moment of every day and loved him, and time. We three made plans, we talked about the future, we ate wonderful food, we laughed, cried, hung onto hope, hugged each other through disappointments but never gave up. The end came swiftly and still we made every moment count. We celebrated love with weddings and celebrations, and then we had to let go.
That morning sitting on Aidan’s bed laughing and talking I think I knew in my heart that the end was near. I’m sad that I was not with him, Aleisha was, which is what I believe my boy wanted. I wasn’t far away and was there within minutes to share that heart splintering moment with her. Raw pain is a so sad to see. There are no words or explanation – it’s a time to hug and hold – to just be.
So many questions unanswered – where is he, how is he, how does he feel, is the cycle of life just that, are we just dust to dust and ashes to ashes, is he singing in the breeze, or laughing in a storm, or just waiting at the end of my rainbow. We just don’t know. Life is a journey and after …a mystery.
I always look for my boy, and often I find him. It makes me sad; it makes me smile, it makes me cry and it makes me a little happier.
Our human journey is strewn with unknowns, so to read someone’s experience at their time of death gave me that strange sense of comfort. We all want our loved ones to be peaceful, to feel safe and loved, and to cross over easily. Losing those who are attached to your heart is heart breaking but the not knowing where… is tough. So, to catch someone else’s glimpse and to stitch that into our own tapestry of belief or understanding is a comforting thing.
There was an article in the Courier Mail about a chap who has an extremely unusual and frightening case of vasovagal syncope, known as the fainters’ condition, he flatlines and then spontaneously comes back to life
He said:
One of the most memorable attacks was when I was in The Tweed Hospital, and I heard the heart monitor making the flatline noise. I understood that I was gone. I heard my family being herded out of the ward and a doctor was pushing open my eyelids and telling me to stay with him. I felt my arms and legs go really heavy, but it felt like my soul or my thoughts were light. I felt a wave of content and I was not scared. There was no tunnel, no bright light but it wasn’t darkness. It felt comfortable. I don’t know how long that feeling lasted but as I was coming back, that is when there was a whirling, swirling feeling and flashes of the faces of my family appeared.
Love you forever Aidan Cale Needham
20.10.10
