Death and the Maiden.

OK, so I haven't been a maiden for... ahem... quite a while. But death is on my mind at the moment.

After CPE on Wednesday I borrowed a book from one of the facilitators. It was a book of stories, experiences really, written by a lady who has been a palliative care hospice worker for many years. I devoured it all. In about 2 hours. To be honest, that was probably a really baaad idea. Hey Josie, let's read a whole heap of stories about death right before you go to bed! Sweet dreams!

Actually, it wasn't that bad. Most of the stories were... beautiful. Death is a very natural process, and by the time you are in a hospice you are prepared for the journey. There were stories of gentle endings, permission being given and accepted, people leaving this life in love and faith. But there was one that I can't find the beauty in.

A young, single mum to a nine year old boy was dying. By the time the carer was there, she had only hours to live. She was in a coma, but she wasn't peaceful. The carer describes herself as a midwife to the dying, and she described this woman as having contractions when she would get very distressed, calling out her son's name as her body spasmed. These grew shorter and softer until she died. The carer stayed with her, reassured her that she was not alone in this journey, that God was waiting for her... but as she died she was still calling for her son. He was on her mind to the end, she felt that she couldn't leave him... but she had to.

This hurts.

I can't help but put myself in her place. She didn't KNOW that her son would be taken care of, loved and cherished as she did.  Or maybe she did. I have to read the story again (probably many times) but I'm going of my impressions for this one. The thing is, she did not die at peace and with acceptance, she fought right up to the end... for her son.

I spoke to my facilitator about this story today. Clearly I am identifying very strongly with this mum. I don't want to die. Obviously I'm not expecting to, but we don't get a choice as to when death comes. She suggested that I write down would I would feel as a loss if I were to die today.

So what would I lose?

My children. That's the thing. I would lose my children, helping them grow up, sharing their stories, kissing and hugging them, feeding their minds and souls, loving them. I would lose my family, my friends, my husband.... but mainly my children.

But would I?

I believe in God. I believe that life doesn't end when we leave this world. I believe that God wants what is best for us. So I MUST believe that death could NOT separate me from my children.

There is no way I can lose my babies. Even if I am not physically present, I WILL be there, loving them, nurturing them, teaching them. Nothing can separate me from them, nothing in this life or the next. God CAN NOT do that, not the God of love that I know and worship. I know that one day my babies will be grown up and they will move on and have families of their own. I know that one day (hopefully many, MANY years from now) I will be ready to let them go. But that time is not now.





There is another difference between me and that mum. I was thinking about all the people that would have to die before my children would not be loved with the same intensity I do. Jason, my parents, Jason's mum, Tim and Cath, Jen, Bill, Margaret, Britta, Dee and Chris, James and Emily, Mel, Warren, Ethan and Eliza, the Jordans, Elizabeth...  and that's just the start. My children are blessed with so much love they will never lack for it. If I have to die I would fight it for as long as I can, but when I couldn't fight anymore I think I could leave in peace knowing that I was only leaving in body, that I will be there for my little ones as long as they need me, and that they will never lack for deeply passionate Mother love.

Wow.

I love you Abigail. I love you William. Now and forever.