Of late, I have been reflecting on death – the inevitability of my own and that of so many loved ones throughout my life. It is heavy – indeed, antithetical to how we understand ourselves and others, especially those we hold most dear. How can such a fate befall this person or that? They were so full of life … so unique … so precious … beloved.
My aunt, for example, just passed. She was only 69, but she had been in a dark place for quite some time. She suffered from dementia and hardly recognized anybody anymore save for her husband of over fifty years. I sent a condolence card to my uncle, describing how, years ago, I was walking up the sidewalk and observed him, my aunt, and their toddler granddaughter playing in the leaves. She was gazing up at them in joyous awe, and the two new grandparents were dancing around, sprinkling autumn leaves over her. They all stood in a golden light. The sight was beautiful to behold. And passing. Transitory.
Love and time.
It was a tension I carried with me to Simpsonwood Park with my dog, Arrow.
The love I have for my children. My own death. My heart hurt for so many.
As it happened, I thought then of the Hail Mary and wondered why it ended with the word “death.”
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
And then I thought about another word in the prayer: “womb.”
Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Was a revelation coming? Perhaps so.
When each of my daughters was still in the womb, I delighted over them but not as much as I do now. They were still developing. It was still dark.
Just like our world is now. But physically. So what do we make of our current circumstances? Are we in a spiritual womb? Are our souls being developed?
Consider this: In my mother’s womb, I was who I was; however, in the world, I am more than my utero beginning. In heaven will I be even more than I am now? At present, we are all in stage 2 of a 3-stage process. We go from womb to womb – physical to spiritual – an upward trajectory if we call on the right name.
Perhaps, then, this is why we ask Mary to pray for us. She is our spiritual mother, after all, so if we are truly through Him and with Him and in Him, then we will be birthed through Mary’s womb. Our “death,” therefore, is not what we think it is. My aunt is even more who she is right now. More than she ever was. And the same goes for all of those who have gone before us. Maybe it is only in heaven where God fully delights in His children. He pokes the belly now. Anticipates the true birth. Waits patiently. Knows that both births are scary and messy but also knows that both involve emerging out of some darkness and into the light.
First the sun. S-U-N. Then the Son. S-O-N.
