What Death Can Teach Us
How do I feel?
What have I learned?
Where do I go?
From a place of depression and inward exploration, I’ve risen to the top of the wave, embracing outward expression. It’s been a journey, especially in these past few days, coinciding with my moon cycle, which has opened me up even further. At times, I’ve felt empty, drained, and tired, but in other moments, there have been glimpses of realization that light up the entire night sky. I’ve danced, sung, meditated, and walked barefoot in the forest—connecting, receiving.
I looked back at old photos, remembering the things she loved: travel, beautiful clothes, stones, and family. I’ve tried to piece together fragments of her that were once forgotten. A curiosity arose within me—how was she before I was born? Did I truly know her? I guess not. Only fragments of her remain with me. But some of them are like gemstones, shaping who I am now and continuing to guide me in this lifetime.
Mom, from the years we spent together, I’ve realized that work should never take over our lives. I witnessed your hard work and the sacrifices you made, but I also saw the toll it took. So, I quit my 9-to-5 to explore what I truly wanted to do and how to do it with ease and balance. Now, I’m truly happy—not because I’ve found my path, but because every step I take is conscious. I now ask myself, “Is this where I want to go? Am I balanced?” Once I answer with a firm yes, I move forward without doubt.
Thank you, Mom, for helping me break free from the unconscious working patterns so many of us are trapped in. You taught me to prioritize life over work. Because your marriage was turbulent in the end, I’ve questioned what love, attachment, and marriage truly are. This questioning led me to where I am now: with a partner who offers me freedom and support, someone who communicates openly and shares a path of spiritual growth, rather than staying together simply for survival and security.
Your death has taught me to express myself freely, no longer bound by society’s norms and fears. I’ve learned to let go of what no longer serves me, regardless of what others may think. I’ve become more courageous, and my generation is blessed with freedoms that were hard to imagine in yours.
You loved to travel. You hiked big mountains while I was in your belly, and you were waiting for your retirement years to explore more. But death came first. Now, I no longer hesitate between travel and work. What aligns most with my growth and expansion always comes first in moments of choice. My Sagittarius spirit takes me to new places, and work flows with the travel. We can have both now—fulfilling our outer purpose while exploring new lands.
Mom, I remember how much you adored beauty—gorgeous outfits, gemstones. I wonder, deep in your heart, if you held the spirit of a creative artist. Had you not chosen the Capricornian path of an accountant, might you have become a designer of some sort? It’s an interesting thought, imagining you in a way that dreams the future of a child—reversed in time. After all, past, present, and future are not linear; they coexist in a web.
Thank you, Mom, for all the precious lessons of death. I felt deeply loved and held throughout all the years of growing up because of you. I will continue to spread that loving energy outward to all my relations and to Mother Earth.
Death is a gift, in which we unite and evolve.
