I sat in the hospital as my dear friend Scott slept. At the age of 50, his head of beautiful dark hair rested against the pillow. His once muscular body has been ravaged. By what? …They had no answers.

The veil between this existence and the next was so thin, and I felt tender knowing that I was witnessing his transition. So many spiritual beings were in the room. It was sacred space. Even with all the beeps and mechanical sounds from the machines there was a silent depth in the room; like the stillness and peace of the other realm peeking at the scene of my friend’s soul being more out of his body than in. The Beings were biding their time and watchful of him as he dances in and out.

Scott was watching me from that other realm, as I watched him sleep. Then he came back into his body to open his eyes and peek at me. “What holds you here?” I thought. “Your love for your partner Debbie, family and life? Or is there a timetable beyond my present awareness?”

I joined the watchers; only my observation was tinged with tenderness of heart. I felt there is perfection to all of this somehow, and yet I know what a loss this is for your partner and all of us who love you. It would appear that you, on a soul level, and God had other plans. And we in this physical world are left to reflect on the meaning and purpose of this experience. …Being with our raw feelings around death.

All I know is that I see only a fraction of the picture. That view comes through the filters of my perception, which I form from my experiences, and the beliefs I create from them. I reflect on the passing of others I have known. For example, my cousin in her mid-twenties with two children, died when she hit the back of her head. John’s niece died of cancer at age 50. A nephew’s son died at age 15 in a car wreck. There appears to be a bigger picture in the process of life, death and rebirth. I sift through the crumbs of my understanding and find I must surrender all pat answers. Since I felt the other side peeking at Scott, may be they were as excited about his arrival there, as we were reluctant to let him go?

Two days later, I visited Scott again to be with my friend Debbie as she went through her process of embracing the fact that Scott was walking through the doorway of death. It was a day of many visitors. At a quiet moment, another friend named Anna Beth and I were on each side of Scott. I would talk to him looking at his face. And I got the sense he was telling me he was not there; he was hovering above us. Then he would pop into his body for a moment, and I got the feeling it was too painful to stay in there. He would pop back out. It was interesting to observe his dance in and out. He would squeeze Anna Beth’s hand or move the arm slightly that I was touching. He never regained consciousness or spoke to anyone again. So little ability to express through that body, and yet Scott was attempting to. That gave moments of hope for some that he would live, yet the situation evolved so rapidly and made it impossible for any other outcome than death. Then I felt to sing him a song and as I was singing, I heard him say, ‘You’re not that good.’ And I busted out laughing. His same sense of humor remained intact. That’s Scotty.

That night Debbie called me in her clarity before the family meeting that she knew Scott wouldn’t want to stay in a body that didn’t function. She expressed love in its purest form by her willingness to let him go. The next morning, Scott’s family unanimously decided to unplug life support, and he slipped peacefully into the next world on my husband’s birthday. The memories of Scott’s death and John’s birthday celebration are woven in my heart.

Death causes me to reflect on the preciousness of life. Each moment, no matter what it brings, I recommit to live my fullest and best self. What has been your experience of losing someone you love? How has it caused you to reflect?

(a picture goes here of a sunset I took)

I do not see the sun as it passes from my sight, but I know it exists just the same on the other side of the world. I do not see those I love who have passed through the doorway of death, yet they exist still somehow, somewhere….that I know.

Sharing compassion with those who are in the process of grief.

Linda Radford

Author's Bio: 

As professional Intuitive, Linda Radford has worked with hundreds of people from New York to Hawaii. She helps people reconnect to their inner strength, guidance and clarity. She encourages them to tap into their own intuition to find what is true for them, rather than mostly relying on outside opinion. Linda is a catalyst for people to gain clarity and purpose in all aspects of their lives from health and career to personal and professional relationships.