Dakini Grace Blog

To the dearly departed


So you have passed from this world.

The world of sand between your toes and sunshine on your face.

The world of touch – of hugs and kisses, of holding hands and stroking hair.

The world of cherries and berries, and mangoes which drip down your face each time you bite in. This tactile, sensuous world you enjoyed with such appetite.

And yet, how does the proverb go? This too will pass.

And so your time has come. To pass through. To pass beyond.

What awaits you now, I cannot know. For this journey is yours and yours alone.

What I do know is this; I miss you. I miss your voice and your smile. I miss your eyes so kind. I miss your hugs and the times you told me you love me.

I do feel you around. Always I feel you. Your presence, your love, your protective energy.

And yet you are not here. In form. In this material world that seems so real, so solid, so distinct to me.

The sadness comes in noticing that absence.

It’s a sadness that extends beyond my own loss. It’s a sadness for others you’ve left behind. A sadness for the space you used to fill. And also, a sadness for you.

For if your death has taught me anything it is this; life is precious. Exquisite. Wondrous. More magical than Houdini, more joyous than the first bloom in Spring, more heart opening than holding a baby’s tiny hand on its first day on earth.

Your death reminds me that life is so big, so expansive, so extraordinary that we can’t take it all in.

It’s too much. And so we take it in bite size pieces.

You were one of my bite size pieces. You were life for me.

So I say thank you. Thank you for honouring us all with your life.

And thank you for honouring us with your death. For in death you teach us to savour every moment, to hug more, to smile more. To spend more time looking people in the eye and seeing them, really seeing them. You remind us that nothing is to be taken for granted, that everything is here for us to relish, to experience freshly with childlike wonder.

In reminding us of this, you do us great service. Your death becomes more than a transition, a passing beyond what is known. It becomes a contribution of immeasurable value.

You remind me to take each day more slowly. To stop rushing. To be still. To appreciate. To be grateful.

You remind us to honour every aspect of our own lives so that when we too pass, we might each say this; ‘I have lived with awareness, in the fullness of each moment, with a deep respect and gratitude for all that is.’

Namaste dear, dear departed.