Someone must open a window so the soul can leave.
I saw a commercial on television the other day showing the outside of a house at night with a light shining from an upstairs window and a feeble older voice saying, “Open a window so the soul can leave.” Then there was a voice-over about nurses and nursing care. At the end of the commercial you see a figure move to the window and gently close it. A different, younger and stronger voice says, “Not tonight.”
For at least another night, with the help of the nurse, life has won and death has been defeated.
It made me think of my sister Annie, and the evening not so very long ago when death won.
Did your soul leave while your little body remained, not seeing, not responding, not moving save for burdened breaths?
Or was your soul watching later with you and I, alone in the room, your visible pulse fluttering through your neck, slowing to one, two, three strong heartbeats, stopping? Was your soul there with me then?
Was your soul watching as we each said good-bye to your still body, leaving the room one by one, save for Mom who stayed with the nurse, gently bathing your body one last time? Did you hover about?
Did you sneak out the door when they came with the gurney? Or did you stay to watch, everyone huddled behind closed doors while they zipped your body into a bag?
Did you watch as they unzipped the bag for me to check details, reassuring Mom that you lied on your stomach with your legs slightly bent, your ankles crossed, your right leg over your left?
Was your soul looking for a way out? Were you waiting to leave?
Did you fly out the door when they rolled the gurney away, your body zipped up tight, David and J.D. accompanying it to the hearse like an honor guard? Did you fly away when the door opened, or did your soul stay to watch?
Did you stay and linger with us a while as we went through the motions in the days that followed of things needing to be done?
Was your soul waiting in your empty room when I returned to it, time and again, still feeling your presence there?
How long did your soul stay? Did it quietly slip away later, after we’d dropped our vigil?
When did your soul leave?
14 thoughts on “Letting the soul leave”
Sigh. As you said. A lovely lovely tribute, Christine!
Thanks, Julia. This one woke me in the night with its insistence.
Your tribute brought me to tears. This is poetic, meaningful, and moving. Beautifully crafted and heart-felt!
Thank you. It truly was heart-felt.
What a beautiful tribute to your precious sister, Annie! I’m sure her soul rejoiced while reading it!
Thank you, Jolina.
Suzi’s brother recently died. You might be interested in reading this post about the spirits of loved ones who came to help him in his passage:
Thanks for sharing the link, Nancy. Suzi did a wonderful job of verbalizing the death of a loved one experience. It was particularly helpful to me because her brother told her things that maybe Annie also experienced without being able to communicate them to us.
That was my thought too . . .
My mother’s soul hovered around a few of following her death and assuring us that she loved us and was saddened by the abusive moments she inserted into our relationship.
My father simply said good-by in a dream and told me not to worry, he was okay.
I fight our obsession in America and many other places with prolonging death. Life yes, but we confuse the two. Said from a long experience with cancer patients.
Thanks for sharing your experiences. Annie died from cancer, although we did nothing to prolong it. By the time we knew it was really too late anyway.
the questions left aboput the unknown are what would have been the most troubling for me. I thank you for reading my post and leaving a comment. A couple of days ago I did a follow up post on the one you read…I feel I did get my “peace” sign…in a random email. http://suzicate.wordpress.com/2011/05/11/a-sign-of-peace/ i hope you publish your memoir as I’d like to read it.
Thanks for stopping by, even if it was because of a sad topic. And thanks for the link to the follow-up.
Have a beautiful day.
This is so touching. I have heard so many anecdotes about those who have gone before greeting our spirits as we leave our body, and I hope your sister is at peace.