The death of a friend.

Two weeks ago a woman I had grown to love dearly left. Death came swiftly and deftly; an instant leave-taking without a moment for pain or remorse. It was a gentle death for which I am grateful, not only because it is the kind of death I wish for my most beloved people on this earth, but also because I am certain had she been given even a second, Rebecca would have been highly irritated with the timing.

Rebecca lived life with wide enthusiasm, open handedly, and gratefully. I don't believe she would have felt anguish or remorse because she was a Cancer surviver; she had plowed those fields already, and witnessed their flourishing as she healed from the great ordeal of survival. Rebecca won the lottery as far as cancer is concerned, and with great awareness she lived thankful for each and every day afterwards.

In Buddhism, death is as sacred as life. I don’t know where we go, if anywhere, when we die, but I think if our spirit rejoins the whole that sustains us, gives us light, the very grace that makes everything on this planet so profoundly beautiful, then probably the regret we feel when we die is momentary - a quick “oh no! But I had to… I wanted to.." followed by release as we grasp the bigger picture of it, the grace as integral to dying as it is to living.

Maybe this period of leave-taking takes an instant, or an hour. We who are left, on the other hand, are bereft, grief stricken, struck by the sharp blow of missing. We are left for days and years learning to abide the spaces left vacant and silent. We have to accept the departure.

So I don’t believe she is feeling the way I am now, wherever she went, and I am glad for that. I think all I can do is accept that she left, and feel gratitude for the time I had with her. Rebecca was a crisp full breath of life for me over the past 6 months, a sparkling light in the right direction. Her vibrant method of living, her unlimited generosity and reach lifted me out of darkness over and over again these past 6 months. I marveled at her, how nourishing she was to all who loved her, and at how she loved - it was vast, broad strokes of azure, fierce reds, and golden yellows and oranges. The way she loved was as singularly unique as the blossoms of her Night Blooming Cerius.

How lucky I was to witness the grace of Rebecca.