My Father died about four years ago. He was in his early nineties and had lived a good life. When he died, my reaction was muted. I wasn’t sure why. I cried a little. I missed him, but I seemed to go right on. Maybe I spent too much time helping others during the time of his death. Helping makes you feel good, but it can be distancing. Perhaps it's just how I move through deep emotions – a little at a time. It's also harder to mourn when thinking, “Good job, Dad! You went out at just the right time and in just the right way.” I was oddly happy for him. He made some good decisions toward the end. He decided on hospice early, opting not to fight his cancer actively. He enjoyed the caregivers that came into the house. It was his good fortune to be able to enjoy his life right up until about two days before he died. Some of this was purely good fortune, but it added up to a ‘good death.’
What a wonderful reflection of your father. A Nature Mystic....I so connect with that.
I have enjoyed this reading.
I gave me a sense of peace.
Thank you
Suzie
I felt delightfully captivated reading this and sorry to get to the end. Maybe this is the beginning of a longer story?