„Margaret, I’m sorry to say your sister passed away this morning.” The message irrevocably cut the past from the future. Time stopped, terrified of the knife hanging over it. What do you mean “passed away”…, but it’s impossible that she’s dead…, what does “passed away” mean…, maybe I don’t understand…, what is he saying…, am I having a bad dream…, oh God…
The body reacted – I dropped to the floor as if I was looking for the Earth’s support, an animal howl came out of my throat, tears were flowing. With trembling hands I had problems dialing the telephone number to call, find out, is it true, is it really?
Then the hours of loud crying, uncontrollable sobbing, being hugged by my children, calling and letting the closest people know.
Then the feeling of being suspended in time, in the deadliness, in pain. Waking up in the middle of the night in disbelief.
And then the gifts started showing slowly. It felt as if I was picking them up from the sea of mystery.
Love. For my Sister Julita, called Ula. Complete, all encompassing, unconditional. Without fear for the future, without worry, without the need to fix anything. Free. And I felt Ula loving me back, her love flooding my heart, warm, unrestrained.
Clarity. Everything started to straighten up in me. All convoluted, crumpled, twisted stories of our lives began getting up and straightening up their old bones tired from the long held uncomfortable poses I’ve kept them in for years. They arose beautiful, true, bright and free. They are here now, without shame, without hiding, without being wished to go away.
Truth. Not in a way of enlightenment; simply the truth of allowing myself to feel and express it completely, the way I see it. In every situation, towards anybody, even towards the closest family with whom I felt forced to acquiesce or dissemble something. I forced myself – that’s the truth. Now I will choose differently. I’m not afraid of anybody’s reaction, because I have lived through the worst – the death of my sister.
Spirit. The spirit of my Sister is with me. I feel her I’m my heart, in the air around me, in bed cuddled to me, sitting next to me on a sofa and looking at old pictures. I talk to her, hug her, hold her hand. We are together, one spirit. We are melting into one.
Connection. She is me, I am her. I feel her strength, her truth and her clarity coming onto me and I receive it with great joy and gratitude. She gave me strength where I felt weak, confidence where I had doubts and a sense of humor and lightness where I lacked it. Thank you, Sister.
Lack of resistance. I don’t resist, I receive, I welcome. I respect the choice my Sister’s soul made. I say YES. I don’t get hung up forever on my longing for her and on the fact that we won’t grow old together. I let myself feel it, cry it out, but I don’t want to choose it as a new coat that I will wear from now on. I’m choosing no resistance, receiving what is. All the gifts from death. And from life.
I will miss her tremendously all my life, until we meet again. Until then, Ula, hug our people on the other side from me. See you.