Circles of Life and Death

I experienced two parallel universes this last weekend. Death and life. Endings and beginnings. It was surreal, seeing the swirl of the circle of life up close. Bittersweet.

On one side of town, my dear friend's mother, Zora, began to go downhill. She quit eating and drinking and fell into a stupor. On the other side, my pregnant daughter-in-law's (Bailey) blood pressure started going up. She was more than 3 weeks away from her due date. Troubles. Zora slipped further away, each draw of oxygen becoming a trial. Bailey felt the weight of the baby and the struggle of uncertainty looming. Each side was waiting, waiting. The unknown, the crossing-overs, were painfully borne. The breath of life was cherished on each end, one leaving the body, one receiving into the body. Labors began. Gasping, lungs of air. Time, never seeming to go forward. The advent of a baby. The advent of the unknown. As Bailey wrestled with the pain, Zora did too. There were medications for each, one precisely tailored not to hurt a child, the other engineered to ease life away, not so considerate of whether the toxins might hasten death. The toil seemed to never end. Finally, as the waves crested and the daughter cradled the mother, her soul left like a bird in flight. The shell was left, like a thin and fragile egg. Across town, the other mother bore down mightily and as that tide broke, a man-child entered the world, beautiful and creamy. A pitiful, sweet wail lifted over the room. The breath of life, leaving one, entering another. Both are now home, one we can't see, one we can. 

Tears. Relief. Sorrow. Happiness. All mixed together. All the arrangements. Funeral, food, flowers, gifts, homegoing. People everywhere, obligations, love, hugs. Both sides so similar, yet polar opposite. Life and death circling close. Talk of what is new, what is old, what has been, what will be. I am struck with the wonder of it and how dear both the sadness and the joy come to one another, join together, infusing and layering themselves into our souls. 

This is life. I don't want to live in the dread of death and I don't want to miss all the life here either. I am grateful for the beautiful death of a saint who flies home, and joyful for the new grandbaby who brings his own bucket of love with him. How good is this life and how wonderful the promise of the next...