This week has been a time of sacred passages. On Tuesday, my husband's grandmother died at the age of 92. She slipped into a coma over the weekend and died peacefully without waking up. Even with expected passings, sadness lingers. There is a subtle shift in what I would call our family psyche that marks the life that she lived and has now relinquished. She was born in 1916 and saw tremendous change in the world as the 20th century came and went. We've been sharing memories over the last few days, keeping a candle lit in honor of her passing. This is a woman who had a deep, abiding faith in heaven and god – so death, perhaps, was not as frightening. In the end, however, with dementia, I hope that she was able to hold on to her faith – at least that piece of it, that comfort in life eternal.
But this wasn't all that happened in our week. My sister gave birth to a baby girl last night. This was a passage into life, the labor pains bringing forth the first breathe, not the last. This precious baby brings joy and celebration. The miracle that is life – that creates life – and brings her into a world where she will write her own story.
I'm holding both of these moments in my heart. Sacred beginnings and endings that punctuate for me what it means to be human. This is our journey.
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