Death is a Beautiful Thing

I passed a parked hearse on my way to work today. The proprietor had written on the back of the vehicle the words ‘Last Ride’. I smiled to myself, finding it funny that he had such a sense of humour on what was considered such a morbid topic, death. It’s not like anyone could disagree with the man but the more sensitive ones among us might not see the light side of it.

We do not understand death, not many of us have died and came back to life so we see the process as something to fear, to be sad about, with many so grieve stricken that they sink into a deep depressive state as they mourn the passing of their loved one.

I have never died and was returned to life nor have I ever had a near-death experience that I can recall, but through meditation, I was able to discover that the process of crossing over from this physical plane to the next is one of the most beautiful experiences the soul can have. Its returning Home. We sing the song ‘…. this world is not my home; I’m just a-passing through...’ So since we know that we are all passing through, why all the debilitating grief, the weeping, the wailing when we lose a loved one?

Perhaps if we can experience what happens when we cross over to the other side, if we can get a glimpse of our real home, we will realize that it’s much better than where we are at present. How many stories have we read about persons dying and having had a taste of the other side, only to report that they did not want to come back?

I will share my personal experience, my glimpse of Home. It was during a meditative session, very early in the morning. I cannot recall what triggered it but I found myself in the most beautiful place. It glowed yellow. Do you remember those screw or push bulbs we used to have long ago, before the age of energy-saving-LED-bright-like-high-noon ones? They used to come in different colours and yellow was one. When turned on in a dark room, it gave off a warm mystical glow. That was the glow that I experienced. There was a female standing waiting to greet me. I guess she was one of my ancestors. Short like me, slim with very long hair that looked like dreadlocks and she radiated this love. This warm, encompassing, otherworldly type love that I had never experienced before. She smiled at me and I just cried and cried. I was whole and at home. Time went by slowly, or so it felt, and when I returned to myself, I was surprised to feel real tears wetting my cheeks.

It was blissful. To this day, I cannot recall the experience without my eyes filling with happy tears.

I was grateful for the experience. It taught me that death was nothing to fear. It was a beautiful thing. Like the freeing of a butterfly from its cocoon, it releases us to Home.