“O Death, where is thy sting?  O grave, where is thy victory? St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians

“For me to live is Christ, to die is gain.” St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians

“Go forth in peace, for you have followed the good road. Go forth without fear; for He that created you has sanctified you, has always protected you, and loves you as a mother.” – St. Clare

This week I’ve been swimming in the deep end of death.  My good friend Karen, wife of Ernie and Godmother of my daughter Molley, died.  Hers was a lingering death, having suffered with cancer for years, and more recently with dementia.  She died at home, with Ernie by her side.  It was a beautiful death, if it is possible to describe death that way.

I made it to their home in Chicago the day before she died.  My intention was to visit her and say my earthly goodbyes.  I was too late. She was already in the process of actively dying. Ernie woke me up at 2 a.m. to come and see her and be with him.  I stayed with him for four days.  Four days of soaking in shadows, sensing spirits, and sitting.  Sometimes doing nothing means everything.

I had a lot of time to have a lot of thoughts, many of them centered on people I knew who had died.  I thought of my parents, parishioners, friends, and family members.  I thought of my first dog, Buddy, who was hit by a car and died the same day as my grandmother.  I cried for both.  I thought of others I know who are now also dying.  But then again, we all are.  I am.  You are.

I also thought about the rituals surrounding death.  In the U.S. people seem to keep their distance, as if they’re afraid of catching the disease.  People called Ernie, but not many people came to the house.  From my experience it’s because people don’t know what to say.  Saying nothing is more than sufficient when you’re in the presence of another. What a contrast with places like Papua New Guinea where friends and family and tribal members came and sat at the house of the dead person—whose body remained inside—and sat and cried, put dirt on themselves, and wept and wailed.  It was a communal and visible outpouring of grief.

And of course, I thought about what comes after death.  I’m absolutely certain, based not only based not only on scriptural and scientific evidence, but also on the plethora of anecdotal stories of those who have died[i] and come back, that there is life after death.  But what kind of life?  What is awaiting us? I really don’t know.  Here’s as close as I can come right now.

In death we are going back to The One that we came from.  God.  Home. Heaven.  What that will be like I don’t know.  I don’t believe it’s the cotton candy clouds with angels playing harps.  I do believe it’s real.  Very real!  More real than this life.

I’d like to believe that we have real bodies.  That’s based on the Gospel accounts of the resurrection of Jesus.  It’s as close as we can come to living evidence.  It’s also based on what some people have experienced in their own Near-Death Experiences.  But those bodies are different from these.  I think of them like Avatar bodies. Maybe.  Maybe not.  But I’d like to believe that.

I believe that we’ll be in the Presence of God—and others.  What that will be like I don’t know.  I’d also like to believe that we’ll be able to communicate, somehow, with our loved ones left on earth. 

And perhaps most importantly, I’m convinced that we’ll be in an atmosphere of pure love and delight that is unfathomable, but so much better than any we’ve experienced in this life. 

What do you believe?

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[i] For example those recounted in the book “After” by Bruce Greyson.