It may sound a bit morbid, but there is a certain beauty in death. Especially when your loved one has struggled and suffered for so long. You’ve prayed for their suffering to end, you’ve yelled at God. You’ve likely bargained with both God and the devil just keep your loved one with you. You’ve cried tears of hope, you’ve cried tears of anger. You’ve tried so hard to put the impending death into perspective. You’ve tried to rationalize.

You might be there now. You might be there soon. It’s inevitable when you are staring death in it’s face, lying to yourself to comfort yourself – that it will be ok. That maybe, by some miracle, it will all turn around. I pray it does turn the corner of health for you.

Unfortunately, for many, it doesn’t. It didn’t for us. I knew the day was coming, I’d never seen death first person. I’d never watched someone transition from life to eternal life. I was terrified for that day; too afraid to google it and get some sorded twisted imagery. I haven’t googled it to this day. I hope if you googled it – you land here.

Watching mom pass way was life changing.

What does death look like?

Earthly death is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and probably will see until it is my time to make the journey. I remembered the day my mom passed like it was yesterday. We came off the heals of a much anticipated birthday party for my dad. It was mid-morning, my husband woke me up gently telling me I needed to get up, with a kiss on the forehead. There was a sadness in his voice – I knew from the moment I opened my eyes – there was an energy of sadness in the air.

I walked into the living room & locked eyes with my dad. His face said it all. Today was the day. If you’ve been married – it’s the exact opposite of the feeling you had the morning of your wedding day.

Her PulseOx was in the 40’s. She was restless in her recliner. She didin’t look good, and had a grey tone over her, perhaps it was exaggerated by the bright blue of her party dress from the night before. I sat beside her recliner and held her hand, while my sweet husband fixed me some coffee. I kissed her forehead and said my routine “Good morning, beautiful… want some coffee?” Her answer was no. I asked, “do you want some fruit?”, her answer was no, I attempted to crack a joke that would require a Yes, no response. That was the confirmation I needed. She always said, we’d know when she didn’t want those three things. Coffee … fruit … and a good laugh.

We attempted a conversation, with lot’s of “I Love You’s” and and tears and and heartfelt things you need to get off your chest when you know you won’t have another chance. I asked her who she needed to see – who I needed to call. My brother and my Grandmother.

I called my brother – I said “Hey, So, umm, it’s time. How quick can you be here?” Of all the conversations I’d practiced in my head that was not one I ever rehearsed.

We all took turns sitting by her side. Telling her loved she was. Gramma arrived and took her seat. They held hands and exchanged their I love you’s. It was heartbreaking – watching the two women you love the most in such a tender moment. Through tears, Grandma Thanked God for giving her mom. We all wept.

Our family took turns in the semicircle of chairs around her recliner. We listened to music to help keep her calm. Eventually she “Shhhh’ed“ us and we turned it off. She was starting her voyage.

As she passed, she bargained with God to let her stay one more day. She Was welcomed into Heaven by her Brother and Sister, and friends of days past. How do I know? She said so. She narrated her voyage for us. So when she entered the gates, She exclaimed “Oh wow, Oh wow! Lola? Lola!” Like she’d seen an old friend (she had). Her face turned from struggle into a smile, she sighed – a lot – it was not the heavy sigh, but sigh’s of excitement, of pure joy.

A few moments later she narrated a conversation she was having with my Aunt and Uncle, both who had passed away. She said “Where is our other brother? Well, you know him – he’s floating around here somewhere” with a chuckle – and he was. “It’s so beautiful” she whispered.

And as she said that – a still small voice said to me “ Lord’s Prayer”. I hesitated for a moment and the voice said “Thy Father…” and I was led by the Spirit in the Lords Prayer, and as she took her last breath, without skipping a beat – without having control over my mouth or brain – or ability to know that she had passed. I started to pray out loud for the room. I thanked the Lord for our time with Mom and asked that her Journey continue to be beautiful. And finally that he hold us in his love as we navigate what was left for us without her.

So there you go. Death it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It was confirmation of God keeping his promises of an eternal life. To be healed and restored. For beauty beyond our wildest dreams. I believe there is beauty in death, because I’ve seen what awaits us and His kindness on our arrival.

My prayer for you is that in your final day with your loved one; it’s filled with the beautiful sadness that is death, and your experience can be as peaceful as ours was. There is comfort in knowing what awaits us that replaces the devastation of loosing someone so very much loved. I pray that you get to witness their grand entrance into Heaven.

You’ll be changed forever and you’ll be a better person because of it. I know I have been.