Tag Archives: Death

A Prayer for Last Breaths

By: Autumn Elizabeth

As we transition from Loss to Breath, here is a prayer for the last breaths of this life.  I have found that there are lots of prayers for healing, or grief, but we don’t often consider how we will leave this life. I wrote this prayer as a prayer for a loved one, however, it can easily be converted into a prayer for oneself.  Please feel free to use this and any of our content in services, prayer groups etc., just remember to link it back to us!

Dear God,

I (we) ask that you make the last breath of my (our) loved one peaceful and pure.
Let them be filled with your divine love and wisdom.
Let their final breath be like a river meeting a stream,
as they end this life and are joined with the divine spirit of the universe.
I pray that their last breath resonates in the hearts of those they have loved,
and that no strife or hurt is done unto those loved ones with the final breath.
Above all, let their last breath honor the life they have lived,
and bring acceptance for its end.

Amen

Bluejay

Today’s post is the last  from month of posts on loss.  Seanna Tucker, after opening our theme with her poem Daughter Grief, is back to share another poem .  This poem focuses on loss in nature, its connection to our own losses, and transitions nicely into our next theme of Breath. You can find more of Seanna’s work on her tumblr. 

Saw a Bluejay
Lying on the ground
Passed death
Wanna pick it up
Touch it’s wings
Feel the beauty in it’s feathers
Say – whisper –
Everything’s gonna be alright

Find it’s nest
That surely it must have fallen from
Or been on it’s way to
Protect it’s children
Not quite blue yet
Searching for their color
The way babies do

Sing a lullaby while I wait
For another parent to arrive
So the vultures or the snakes
Or whatever predator
Cannot attack these defenseless
Flightless
Little ones

All this passes
As I see a vibrant bird
Lying on its back
in the middle of a sidewalk
It’s peaceful

And I think
Surely, if such a heaven exists
This bird is there
And all the other birds
No longer afraid of predators
Flying through
All of their colors
On wavelengths that we cannot yet see

Surely, if such a place exists
This bird might know my father
And I can whisper one small request

“Say Hi for me”

Unwanted Goodbyes

By: Autumn Elizabeth

Sometimes all of us have to say goodbye to people and things we aren’t ready to lose yet.  If you sit in an airport long enough, you will certainly see at least one tear-filled farewell, at least one hug that looks like a desperate attempt to cling to a love one who will soon be somewhere else.  Sometimes people lose jobs they loved, homes they loved, sometimes even a broken cup can be a goodbye we have to say too soon.

Of course the ultimate unwanted goodbye is often death.  Although this is one that I have trouble understanding.  Sure, I get that death is loss, but mostly it is a loss for those of us who remain.  Although I don’t know exactly what death holds, as someone who believes in the ultimate love of the divine, I see death as a step to gain something rather than a loss.  Perhaps this is why I am utterly shaken by my grandmother’s last days.

At 96, my grandmother has been a pillar of faith since I was born.  She is deeply and beautifully Catholic and her relationship with her faith is part of what draws me back to the Catholic Church every now and then.  Yet, even at 96, even as a person who truly believes in heaven, my grandmother struggles with her impending death.  More than struggles in fact, she refuses her impending death.  A she sits in the hospital, all my attempts to say goodbye to a woman who has loved me, taught me and shaped me in more ways than she knows are totally unwelcome.

So this is my unwelcome goodbye. I am forced to face the fact that no one’s faith is perfect, that everyone questions the big picture sometimes, even 96-year-old french Catholics.  So I say goodbye to my picture perfect ideal of my grandmother’s faith, and instead accept that when it comes to faith, we can all learn from each other. Perhaps it is now my turn to teach my grandmother something about faith.

For you see I truly believe that death is part of life, and I hope that when death finally comes, I can greet it like an old friend. Having been forced to face my own mortality at the ripe old age of 14 when a medical injection stopped my heart, I have developed an understanding of death one might expect from a person with a few more years on them. I don’t pretend to know what heaven is, or what death will be like, but I do know that because of God’s love, death is nothing to fear. My faith and my experiences have helped me see death as one of the many beautiful mysteries of faith.

I do not wish to say goodbye to my grandmother just yet, and I wish we still had many years of church services to attend together. We do not and I have to learn to accept that. But I do have hope that in the few days we have left together I can give her a bit of my hard-won wisdom on death, if only through my willingness to give her unwanted goodbyes.

Sophia Sighting: Loss, Death and Birth

Continuing with our theme of loss, new mother Natalie M. Petty shares a photo that represents her experience with the loss of her Grandfather, a few days after the birth of her first child.

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Location: Saint Louis, Missouri, USA

My grandpa passed away at the end of this past July. I can’t even begin to express how much he meant to me and how much he will be missed. I’ll never forget the trips to the beach, the extreme decibel of his snoring or his infectious laugh. I’m so blessed to have had him in my life.  He got  to see me walk down the aisle and he was able to to see pictures of my newborn son. I didn’t spend as much time with him as I would have liked because he lived far away, but he always made me feel like the luckiest granddaughter in the world when I did see him. This isn’t “goodbye” for me, it’s “until we meet again”.

Daughter Grief

Today’s post is the first from our submission request for posts on loss.  Seanna Tucker, is a freelance writer and blogger living in St. Louis. Here she shares a poem on her personal loss, which was originally posted on her tumblr. Enjoy and don’t forget  to submit your thoughts, words and pictures about loss.

53
You always told me
It would be your 50’s
And something toxic
Like cancer

You either prepared me
Or jinxed me

Grief comes in spurts
Like geisers
From your home state

Huge shuttering sobs
I seek shelter
Find temporary salvation
In occasional laughter
And old pictures

Then I’m Mt. St. Helens
Bound to burst again
Long overdue

When I find old ticket stubs
Father-Daughter Movie Dates
Things you saved

Things I saved
Old voicemails starting
“Hey Baby Girl” or “Darlin’”
In that southern and yet Californian
Drawl that could only be yours

Things I didn’t know
You saved
old Wedding pictures
From a failed marriage
With your daughter’s Mother

Handwritten notes from a
10-year-old one-time
step-daughter
My sister

I could fill
The Library at Alexandria
with what I didn’t – don’t – know

It’d be filled with
things that are lost
And I would sit on top

In Defense of Prayer

Today’s guest post comes from Hailey Kaufman. Hailey is a student at Webster University, and her poignant post today is about prayer, grief and confusion and is dedicated to her friends Leo and Morgan.

Even having been non-religious for several years, I still have the impulse to pray on rare occasions. It’s always when I want something deeply, but know I can’t do anything about it, and it usually has to do with other people. The impulse to reach out for something powerful and immortal hits me today, as I learn of the death of two young people in my community. It always throws my identity for a loop, and I search to understand why it happens.

The last time I remember praying was when my grandpa was in the hospital for two months, on and off a ventilator, as he picked up one infection after another. It was extremely hard on my family and me, causing tension, confusion, and a dash of insanity in all of us. I remember busting down into tears upon hearing for the fourth or fifth time that his condition was deteriorating, that he’d be on a ventilator again. I was alone screaming obscenities and fury-crying as I punched whatever cushions I could find. Every day, we all just wanted it to be over. We never expected him to recover fully, which he remarkably did.

At that point in my life, I had decided I no longer subscribed to any faith in God, calling myself an agnostic. I thought it more likely than not that there wasn’t anyone in charge of it all, but when Poppy was lying in that bed every day, growing thinner and less recognizable, while simultaneously untying my whole family from their wits, I didn’t know what else to do but pray. At least then, I would feel like I was doing something.

Recently I was sitting in a car pondering the troubles of someone I know. Despite all my thinking, I know there’s very little, if anything, I can do. It’s a helpless feeling, being aware of a problem that is meaningful to you, and not being able to reach out and fix it with your own hands.

I caught myself in a nanosecond epiphany that faded as quickly as it came: I could pray about it. This is why I have mixed feelings about prayer, even as irrational as it seems to me. If God has a plan for everything, then all the imploring in the world won’t change it; and even if he had no path laid out, what would my opinions and ideas mean compared to his? Besides, if he leaves a person’s fate in the hands of those who may or may not ask for that person’s well-being, I’m not sure I’d want anything to do with such a guy.

But I understand that feeling of helplessness, that itch in the stomach to do something, anything to alter a crappy situation. In that moment when you’re either not coming up with creative solutions or discovering that you’re truly irrelevant to the situation, there’s a panic that arises, a restlessness, and even far-fetched ideas seem worth considering. As Ze Frank said:

…When I get that feeling in my stomach – you know the feeling when all of a sudden you get a
ball of energy and it shoots down into your legs, and up into your arms, and it tells you to get up
and stand up and go to the refrigerator and get a cheese sandwich? That’s my Cheese Monster
talking. And my Cheese Monster will never be satisfied by cheddar…only the cheese of accomplishment.

Sometimes my Cheese Monster tells me to pray. I can’t fault others’ for doing the same. As long as it is recognized that proactive, real-world solutions should always be sought first – rather than having an immediate Jesus-take-the-wheel response to things you can change – my qualms with prayer are few.Whatever sets a troubled mind at ease must be at least somewhat of a positive thing. There’s certainly nothing the living can do about a lost life. What falls to us then is to take care of one another – and ourselves. To those who are mourning a death, I hope you make an extra effort to care for those you love, and I hope you are conscious of keeping yourself safe, healthy and happy.

In the meantime, if it helps rest your pain, this atheist hopes you pray it out.

Life, Death, and…

My Bible is filled with death. I know there is a lot of death and dying in the Bible in general but all of my favorite passages are bookmarked by funeral prayer cards. Aunts, Uncles, Grandfathers, I even have prayer cards from people who died before I was born. Perhaps this sounds a bit morbid, a bit too depressing, but, for me, it is the best way to keep them in remembrance.

While I do find a great deal of Wisdom in the Bible, often it is within the people I have known that I find the most ardent grace, the most holy faith and the most divine kindness.  So when I seek Wisdom in the Bible, I also find it in the memorial cards of those who helped shape who I am today.

For me, life and death are connected because death is what makes us human. Indeed, death is what made Jesus human too. We are constantly reminded of all the other things that make us human; whether it be our mistakes or our achievements, our joy or our suffering, we cannot neglect death as part of the human experience.

Whatever I believe about that nebulous”…” that lies beyond, through, or around death, I know that like all of the people who have most clearly shown me Holy Wisdom and Divine Grace, I will have to face death.  I do not let that fact frighten me, for in my Bible I see there always life, and death, and…something more.