Ashes to Ashes: Reflections on Death

Steve Jobs’ death a while back connected me with death in a way I’d never been before. At age 45, I’m officially “middle aged”, I’m the age my grandmothers were the day I was born, and even my parents’ eventual death seems an actual possibility to me. Now that I’m at or approaching “the back nine”, it’s been a time of inventory and reckoning. Am I doing what I’m supposed to be doing? Am I where I am a supposed to be? I have perhaps another 45-55 productive years
if I’m lucky, what do I want to do with them?

I read a quote somewhere a month ago, which I cannot find, so I must paraphrase: “the events of your Life are preparing you for your Destiny”. It’s so true, even the seemingly insignificant or unwanted experiences all accumulate to prepare you for “the next thing”.

My new found kinship with Death began with the demise of Steve Jobs 5 months ago. Meanwhile, I’m caring for my aging cat (Tiffy) of 19 years, my longest relationship excepting my family. For me, the care of my cat was emotionally very connected to my 90 year old grandmother in a care facility. Almost 3 weeks ago, I had to put Tiffy down. As I held her while she was dying there was a fleeting recognition that this experience was an opportunity for me to practice for my grandmother’s death. There have been many times when I’ve seen the fruits of my yoga practice, and it was especially apparent when Tiffy died. I knew the moment she left her body, and I did not have the attachment to her corpse that I expected.

The practice of yoga is all about death—severing attachments to our physical form, seeking Knowledge of the Atman (Soul) within. So much of my practice following Tiffy’s death was allowing my grief to move through me, this in-my-face reminder of the ephemeral nature of my body helping me be less identified with these “clothes” I’ve chosen for this Life. The practice
has been a true comfort, not to mention the blessings of valuable coping and adapting skills acquired over the years.

Not two weeks later, my parents called to say my grandmother was in the hospital. She was 90, on oxygen for 5 years, and it didn’t look good. Within 36 hours she was dead. She and I were very close when I was little, and maintained a connection my whole life that was strengthened when I lived with her for 3 months as her primary caregiver prior to her move into a care facility. I had visited her a few weeks before, and knew we had no unfinished business, so I was not concerned with the fact she was unconscious by the time I arrived at the hospital.

Though the situation saddened me, it still seemed exactly as it should be. My father handled it with admirable spiritual maturity. For the first time, I saw him expressing his grief and sadness with tears, not afraid to show his emotion to his family. He said that he did not want her to suffer and he wanted to be with her when she died. And he was. My dad, my mom, and I were with her when she left her body. Once again, I knew exactly when she left. And it felt right. I had no idea what a gift it is when someone allows you to be present when they die. It may sound crazy and morbid, but I’m grateful I was able to see her off. I read recently someone drawing a parallel between birth and death—both are transitions, whether intense and traumatic or smooth and easy, that we must voyage to get to the new world—and it’s a privilege to be invited.

Grandma was one of Life’s greatest yoga teachers for me. (You can read about one of the more humorous lessons in a previous blog post: http://yogawithliz.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-family-best-yoga-teachers.html?m=1.) She taught me, through her Life and Death, that Life is precious. Breath is precious. EVERY thing, EVERY experience is valuable, whether joyful or unpleasant. She also taught me that some of our Life Experiences may not be for us, but for the benefit or lesson of others, and this is a cherished offering to those around us. I learned from her not to waste a minute on anything , to do what I was put on this earth to do, to love and treasure my family and friends, and to appreciate all that I receive in Life. I know that Death is coming, and through yoga I practice death, which provides a contrast to underscore the importance of being fully alive while I have the chance. Through the glimpses of what’s beyond matter and the physical form, I hope I accept Death gracefully when it comes, knowing it’s just the thing I have to do to get to the next thing—whatever that is.