There still seems to be much weeping and wailing at the passing of a known one, though moreso in the East I believe, as witnessed recently by the immense show of pseudo grief by the populace of North Korea at the passing of their leader Kim Jon Il.
In the West we now are, in general, holding ceremonies of thanksgiving for the life of the one that has passed on, but still wearing the black as a sign of respect for the loss, moreso for those left behind I think than the one 6 feet under.
I had been estranged from my mother for a couple of years and although we had made up I surprised myself by crying like a baby as she died in my arms. During the following week I cleared her cottage and sat one day in the quiet of her sunny bedroom overlooking the village church.
As far as I can remember her bedroom door had never been closed but as I left the room I caught sight of her dressing gown, I had forgotten, hanging behind the door. Stinging tears rolled down my cheeks as I gently folded and placed it in the charity bag. At the funeral itself I was in a daze not even recognising friends who had come to pay their respects. I was 46 at the time.
Now 71 my appreciation of death and passing has gone through a metamorphosis into something rich and strange, according to some, but the following I received this morning from Abraham Hicks Publications brought a smile.
Because we know that life is eternal, and we know that there is no ending to that which you are about, if one of you is killed in an earthquake or crashes your plane, or any number of other very creative ways you have found to make your exit into the Non-Physical, because we know the whole picture, we grieve not a moment for any of you. But from your more short sighted point of view in physical, a lot of you grieve tremendously.
I love the phrase … ‘any number of other very creative ways you have found to make your exit into the Non-Physical’
Which way will you choose?
With love, Hanukah