Hurricane Mary

Death has never been an unsettling thing for me. It's a part of life. A part of living. Sure, it's jarring when it's unexpected, especially when it's a child or a young person shuffling off this mortal coil. But old people? I know and I know they know that their clock is ticking. So when somebody old dies in my family, my grieving process is incredibly short.

Given the spiritual state of my family, I believe that when a loved one has passed on, she has gone to an infinitely better place compared to the broken world in which we live.

The body, the leftover flesh, goes in an expensive box that goes in the ground. The living bury the same decaying organic matter as everything else on this planet. What goes in the ground is not who we are. We are immortal beings; our spirit or our soul or our light leaves a physical body behind that was nothing more than an earth suit.

I don't grieve the loss of a ripped shirt, torn pants, or worn-out socks. Why grieve the loss of an earth suit?

In every death there is a radiant birth as our soul transcends the boundaries of this physical world. Free of its shackles, our light returns to the light.