After nearly 32 years it is way past an occupational hazard to think about death/dying and grief as hospice chaplain; as an empath, a human with a Caring Catalyst heart.         .        .

After witnessing many last moments and heartfelt spoken words of goodbye at the bedside, it’s made me think of a few words I would like to think I would be sharing with my family, with Erin, spoken or that silent-never-spoken-ouit-loud-words-but-heard-more-intimately-than-any-words-could-express.      .     .maybe I am over romanticizing it, it could never happen with the suddenness of a heart attack, car accident or countless other possible medical emergencies but, if there were such moments, I would like to think many of those words and thoughts might be warmly with a laser bean focus wouldn’t miss their mark with the words like Andrea Gibson shared in her poem, LOVE LETTER FROM FROM THE AFTER LIFE.     .     .  She died this past July but proves that words, yes, mere words, more than keep her alive and living.     .     .

So, what about you, would these words you’re about to read be some of the kind of words you’d like to share or.       .        .hear?

Love Letter from the Afterlife, by Andrea Gibson

My love, I was so wrong. Dying is the opposite of leaving. When I left my body, I did not go away. That portal of light was not a portal to elsewhere, but a portal to here. I am more here than I ever was before. I am more with you than I ever could have imagined. So close you look past me when wondering where I am. It’s Ok. I know that to be human is to be farsighted. But feel me now, walking the chambers of your heart, pressing my palms to the soft walls of your living. Why did no one tell us that to die is to be reincarnated in those we love while they are still alive? Ask me the altitude of heaven, and I will answer, “How tall are you?” In my back pocket is a love note with every word you wish you’d said. At night I sit ecstatic at the loom weaving forgiveness into our worldly regrets. All day I listen to the radio of your memories. Yes, I know every secret you thought too dark to tell me, and love you more for everything you feared might make me love you less. When you cry I guide your tears toward the garden of kisses I once planted on your cheek, so you know they are all perennials. Forgive me, for not being able to weep with you. One day you will understand. One day you will know why I read the poetry of your grief to those waiting to be born, and they are all the more excited. There is nothing I want for now that we are so close I open the curtain of your eyelids with my own smile every morning. I wish you could see the beauty your spirit is right now making of your pain, your deep seated fears playing musical chairs, laughing about how real they are not. My love, I want to sing it through the rafters of your bones, Dying is the opposite of leaving. I want to echo it through the corridor of your temples, I am more with you than I ever was before. Do you understand? It was me who beckoned the stranger who caught you in her arms when you forgot not to order for two at the coffee shop. It was me who was up all night gathering sunflowers into your chest the last day you feared you would never again wake up feeling lighthearted. I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise it’s the truth. I promise one day you will say it too – I can’t believe I ever thought I could lose you.

After watching her documentary on AppleTV, COME SEE ME IN THE GOOD LIGHT  https://share.google/BtN3yB4Zkpek5ws0a  I’ve been thinking; I’ve been wondering; I’ve been feeling: I’ve been
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