Going Home

There’s a light that becomes visible only when I stand so close to the veil between life and death

that I can almost see through to the other side.

The light is a soft, pale-yellow-glow. The first time I saw it, I was with a friend who was having a baby at home. Her midwife took me aside between labor pains, looked me straight in the eye and said, “You see it don’t you?” I nodded. I knew exactly what she was talking about.

Every birth that I attended I saw the glowing light. There were four different times over the years, when I attended births and the midwives didn’t make it on time and I had the amazing experience of catching the new born babies. Those times the light filled the entire room. Everything glowed… even the furniture.  

When my mother died, I saw the same light. I was confused at first, but there was no question. The room filled with her spirit and the light shone through.

Now I sit with my mother-in-law who is so much more than a mother-in-law to me. We are two women bound to each other by our love of one extraordinary man, her son, my husband. I owe her much of my happiness.                                I’ve known and loved her for 45 years. 

On Richard’s birthdays I call and say, “Connie, thank you for having Richard, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” She giggles every time.

Yeah, that’s the kind of love I have for her. I know what you might be thinking… go ahead and pour a little more maple syrup on this sticky sweet story, but really…that’s how love works over the years. It’s not all razzle dazzle, it’s constant and steadfast.

Over the past two days our beloved mother is coming close to the veil and she just started glowing this morning. Yesterday, we held her all afternoon because she couldn’t breathe. But this morning she was calm and able to lie in bed. Her eyes open every so often so she can tell us what she sees.

We’re so honored to be with her, to sit with her and hold her hand and love her with all our heart. Richard is on one side speaking softly and I’m on the other stroking her hair, and we sit silently in vigil for our beloved as she straddles the chasm between life and death. I can’t help but think that it’s the same process, birthing and dying, we’re either coming in or going out, but it’s the same spirit either way. With love’s light we are truly more connected than we can possibly comprehend in this world, but every time I step close to the veil, I know that glow is here to guide us all home.