The First Year is Over: Death Has Lost Its Sting

Dearest,

 

It's been a year today - a year at 12:27 this afternoon, when I will be at work. The nurse in me kept to the habits of experience: I saw in your eyes when your soul left your body, and immediately looked at the clock. After years of watching strangers die and having to chart the exact moment of their death, I did the same for you. Your nurse did the proper thing - waited for the last pacemaker capture - and charted your death at 12:30. I was more concerned for your soul than your body.

 

I've seen many, many people die. Your death was different, and in an unexpected way. Yours was holy. So this morning I have these two different things going on inside me, just like I did last year on this day.

 

Last year it was Holy Friday, a day of grief and pain, but always with the knowledge that death had been defeated. Pascha was almost here, when Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the grave bestowing life. Your third day was Pascha - your guardian angel escorted you to Heaven on the day of resurrection. I wonder: did you arrive during the singing of "Shine, Shine," your favorite? It was the last song you heard on earth - I played it for you the day before you died - it would have been appropriate to be the first song you heard in Heaven.

 

Just a few thoughts, and a lot of love, before I get ready for work. I love you with all my overflowing heart,

Joan.