August 24, 2024 /

I come and stand at every door

Readers of this blog know that I’ve thought about death for as long as I can remember. In fact, a  large part of my childhood was dedicated to wondering why things, people, insects our family dog, her puppies, died.  Why did it happen and where did they go when they died?   Life eventually taught me there is no death, not in the spiritual sense, and that death as an event in our life is simply the putting off of the physical body.

Eventually then, death comes to stand at every door.

When that occurs do we run shrieking in terror away from the door, do we stand transfixed and unable to move, or do we open it, an act which heralds our rebirth into the spiritual universe where we can take our place as functional members in the greater eternal body of spiritual society?

A friend of mine is actively dying.  Cancer is robbing him of his strength and vitality and every day it seems death comes to stand at his door, waiting patiently.  As I share his journey and watch his physical life slowly ebb away, I’m reminded again of the fleetingness of our lives and of the importance of living well, and of dying well.

What does this mean?  For me it means to have lived a life with purpose, to have served others, to have grown my  spiritual life and to have cleaved to the Divine, to God.  And when death comes to stand at my door, it means to open it willingly, to step gladly into eternity, and to be with my spiritual community who made their presence known to me all those years ago when they came to me as a small child.

My friend is not having a good death.  He is suffering physically, spiritually and psychologically.  He wants to be alone.  He wants to die at home in his mother’s bed.  His house is not in order.  He is unable to see the enormity of life, the vastness of it, the profundity of it nor can he see those things which have always taken my own breath away.  His is a death of barrenness.  He does not see that above the muck and mire of infallible human existence and all its suffering there is a stillness, an order, a deep serenity which gently announces its presence to all and which touches the soul and warms the heart.

I hope to be by the bedside of my friend, to hold his hand and to say goodbye knowing that despite his fears and apprehension, he has loved ones waiting for him who will greet him warmly, and who will thank God for his safe return home.

Michele T Knight Written by:

Dr Michele Knight is a Social Worker, Social Scientist, researcher and independent scholar. Her interest and research in the end-of-life has its origin in the lived experiences of her own bereavements, her near-death and shared-death events, the returning deceased and attitudinal responses to those experiences. Since 2006, she has been extensively involved in community development, support and advocacy in both a professional and community services/voluntary capacity in the areas of bereavement and grief, hospital pastoral care, and academic lecturing/tutoring. Her PhD, Ways of Being: The alchemy of bereavement and communique, explores the lived experience of bereavement, grief, spirituality and unsought encounters with the returning deceased.

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