This was a tough week for several of our dear friends who lost loved ones. We expect to witness the transition of our parents, even though it is much harder than we think. Losing the younger ones is simply inexplicable.
We know that life offers an uneven playing field - old age and diseases intervene, accidents happen, and misfortunes befall in unequal shares. There is never enough to soothe the soul when destiny strikes and we are left to observe silently.
To our friends, we have little to say. We can try to imagine their sorrow, but cannot feel the pain. We can pray for their peace, but cannot provide solace. We can wait silently and let them know they are loved.
From the Upanishads, may this short poem bring them spiritual relief.
From the unreal lead me to the real (asatoma sadgamaya)
From the darkness lead me to the light (tamasoma jyotirgamaya)
From death lead me to immortality (mrityorma amritamgamaya)
May this Native American poem attributed to an unknown author bring practical relief.
I give you this one thought to keep
I'm with you still, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not think of me as gone
I am with you still, in each new dawn
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
Do not stand there and my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die.