When I was four years old, my maternal grandmother died. She had become bedridden, riddled with cancer, but being a gentle love-filled woman, she continued to put others first. I was never aware of her illness, only her incredible wisdom, her Light, to which I was drawn. Ever morning bright and early, I used to tumble into her room, hop onto her bed, and she would give me the goodies she had hidden under her pillow from some previous meal. So naturally, I was the one who found her. Now, at that tender age, I could still remember the beautiful Spirit world I had come from, and that she was going back to, so I was supremely happy for her. I ran excitedly through the house yelling, ” Mummie, mummie, grandmother dead. I want to be the one to put the penny on her eye!” (She had died with her eyes open and it was an old time tradition to use the heavy English penny to weigh them shut).
In those days, death excited me. It didn’t frighten me or make me sad. But over time, I forsook the world from whence I came, and allowed myself to be seduced by the tantalizing charm of love on earth. So much so, that instead of being excited for my soulmate, that he had returned home, I went into a state of disbelief and instead of celebrating his life, like I did my grandmother’s, I became angry, asking the heavens in an imperious tone, ‘Who dare take away this love of mine?!!? Whose plan was it?’
I have a lot to relearn from four year old me. I have to remind myself why I am here, for we were never promised old age, only life until our own particular mission is over. Yes, I have a lot to relearn.