When my mother grew quite ill and it became clear she would soon die, we brought her from the hospital to my parents’ house where they’d lived for nearly 50 years.
It’s easy to imagine death happening in some faraway time in a faraway place with faraway objects that we haven’t yet encountered. But, of course, death is near.
I’ve studied Tibetan Buddhism for a little over two decades, and the Buddha teaches us to meditate on death as a means to appreciate our precious human life. With my mother, the closer she came to death the more joyful she grew.
she understood this was it — a handful more sunrises awaited her — and she released all blockages to her love for us, all inhibitors, all insecurities, all filters. She became love.
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