Just a story: A Good Death.

Just a story: A Good Death.

Jo Nuske posted 24 Jul 2012

The loss of a loved one is the greatest pain we can experience. This is just a story to illuminate a "good death" in a small understanding of the path of life's transitions.  

Frail fingers, gnarled and knotted with arthritis, grasped the cool smooth railing of the golden stairway as she placed one foot gingerly on the step above. The room below carried the sounds of wailing cries as shadowy figures hugged each other, arms wrapped about drooping bodies. The call to return, to comfort the grief expressed by those she loved was strong, as if cords of unbreakable rope curled themselves about her ankles.  

Her next step up was heavy, dragging against the invisible emotional anchorage.  As the railing glowed below her hand in silent encouragement of her climb, visions of her 95 year life-span began to fill her mind. Laughter, trouble, conflict and love became enmeshed in a kaleidoscope of colour, as movies of memory played in a strange chronology of totality. Her heart swelled with both compassion and regret. Moments in time came into clear focus as she witnessed decisions she had made throughout her long life. She had truly been a part of something wonderful, although that knowledge only now filled her awareness. 

“Grandma, we love you.  Please don’t go. You have so many stories to tell me yet.  Grandma, please...hang on. Come back.” The agonised whisper, echoing thought the etheric realms from the room below, filled her soul with a longing to witness the life of the wonderful young woman who had become her best friend and companion. Her daughter’s daughter had been a blessing she hadn’t known she deserved. 

A tight coil of hot fire encompassed her abdomen as she felt herself being jerked violently backward off the golden step.  Pain wracked her body, every nerve and sense screaming at the intrusion of physical awareness. Slowly, she opened eyelids made heavy with a drug-induced lethargy, designed to relieve suffering.  A fuzzy kind of focus took in the sight of faces too close, surrounding her in the ravaged stages of grief and concern. 

Fights and disagreements had been so much a part of her relationships with this family of hers, as she had striven to control the ridiculous desires and mistakes they had seemed determined to make.  Her matriarchal spirit had needed them to know that her wisdom and guidance was paramount. Sometimes they had listened, but more often they had rebelled against her authority. She had cared so much. Had she been wrong? As her aging body had no longer allowed her to bustle around the house, cleaning, organising and preparing the delicious meals that would tempt taste-buds and provide vital nourishment, she had begun to feel useless, powerless and a burden. She remembered the humiliation of having others deal with her most personal care. 

“It is time and it is right to go. Please let me go.”  Her reassuring reply and plea could not be voiced. She no longer had the capacity. Eyes closed again against the glare and she allowed herself to drift. Held in stasis between the world of these people she was so strongly bonded to and the desire to be released from the stagnation of life without purpose, she struggled to both stay and leave simultaneously.  The peace of the unfinished stairway flickered through her mind.  Of a sudden, further platforms of gold begin to illuminate in her mind, climbing gently to a spiraling height and the very fabric of the path began to hum gently.  She felt a lightness of spirit that loosened her body muscles as through she were shedding a hundred years of coiled tension. Her sight sharpened to encompass the unfolding vista of climbing light.  She felt young again.  A bubble of laughter gurgled in her throat.  The weight lifted from her ankles and legs as she took the next step upward

The ascent had become easier as her face now lifted towards a small light that appeared at the top of the stairs. Yes, there was a kind of platform and the shape of a doorway that vibrated with a shimmering golden orb. Curiosity and a sense of expectation allowed her to almost leap up the next three stairs . A figure began to form, familiar and loved, the face smiling in the gentle twinkle of welcome. Her husband. He had left several years before, a time of terrible lonliness and fear. His outstretched arms encouraged her flight into his warm embrace in a feeling of coming home. They stood for a moment, being aware in companionship of the family they now left behind. She looked anxiously into her husband's face. 

“They will be alright, won’t they?”  

A face that glowed with the strength of peace and wisdom reflected the surety of his answer: “They are marvelous.”

The door behind him increased its frequency of light and sound, as though impatient for the two standing upon its threshold, to enter.  

“ Are you ready?” he asked. The tiniest doubt filled her heart in the finality of the decision.  

“You have a choice.“ He waited. She looked back for the last time to the fading room so far away now.  

“I made some mistakes.” 

“We all make mistakes.  It is part of being human, but they don’t exist here.”  

A soft voice floated its way up through the heights of the stairway.  

“Mum, I love you. It’s Ok to go if that is what you need to do. You will always live in my heart.”  The earthly, coiling cords of grief slid silently away and she was free.  

With his arms wrapped securely about her waist in a safe and comforting embrace, the spirit of the man who had been her challenge, her lover and companion for 60 years stepped, with her, over the golden threshold. “This is just the beginning”, he said. 

About the author

Jo Nuske
Serene Spirit since Mar, 2016

The spiritual awareness “industry” has boomed since we first launched this website in 2009. My personal journey of learning began 52 years ago when psychic awareness was considered a mental disease. I love the acceptance that now embraces the worl...

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