Death and Dying

This morning I woke to emails from two dear friends on different sides of the country. Each were orphaned yesterday with the passing of their one remaining parent, and I feel the weight of their sadness because they are my friends. I also feel keenly my own billowing sadness as I watch my parents age.  I know, in a way I didn’t use to, that their passing is inevitable, each in their own turn and in their own way.  I’m not ready. Dying is such a mystery. It makes me tremble just a bit. Not so much from fear, but from the enormity of it. Ultimately, I feel in my bones that we are born of Love –  and to Love we will return. I somehow can’t stop believing that God is, in some way that we can only begin to fathom, a relational wholeness, a...

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