When Death Came to Visit

When death first came to visit, I refused
to let her enter my home. She sat outside
in the garden picking buttercups, painting
her face the color of the sun.

I stood at the window for hours
watching her, thinking, Why is she still here?
It’s not like she has nowhere to go. I’d try to sleep,

but as soon as I closed my eyes

I would hear her outside talking
daisies into blooming at night.
I suspect she knew, I too am the type
to open my petals for the moon.

On my eighth night awake, I did it.
I don’t know how, but I did it––I walked out
to the garden and invited her in. I poured her
a cup of lavender tea. I made up her bed

and turned down the lights. I wished her good
dreams, though I knew her good dream
was to one day take my life.
I used to believe I knew my purpose,

thought for sure I understood my calling.
But my calling, I now know, has always been
this: to parent my own departure.
To never punish the child for being who she is.

To keep a roof over the head of the truth.
To raise what will end me, with love.

Now people often ask how it feels
raising a delinquent, a child capable

of such awful behavior.
But what rule has she ever broken
besides the ones we make up in our minds?
Ask me instead how it feels to raise a genius,

a child with a boundless IQ.
She could get away with anything, yes.
She could get away with me any minute.
But I trust her. I have to.

I see some of the letters on a chart on a wall.
She has infinity/infinity vision.
Besides, who would I be if I were someone
who would say, I’m gonna ground you

for wanting to heaven me?
I won’t do that, ever. It doesn’t matter
if I made her with my body or not. She’s mine.
I owe her a stable home. I owe her an allowance

without the stipulation
that she use it to buy me more time.
At night when I tuck her in, I read her a story
with the same three words on every page:

You are innocent. You are innocent. You are innocent,
I say. Before I close the book she asks,
But have you ever known anyone who is so unwanted?
It’s the saddest question in the universe,

and she asks it everytime.
“People don’t know you,” I say. “They’ll want you
when they meet you, won’t they?” She says yes,
looking me dead in the eye.

And you, she adds. You’re really okay
with who I want to be when I grow up?
I know I have to answer honestly.
I say, “I don’t want you to grow up too fast.

You know that. You know I can’t help
but be one of those parents who wishes their child
could stay a child forever. It’s only because I’ve cherished
these years so much. But when you’re ready,

I’ll be ready, I promise. I’ve committed
the rest of my days to learning how

to give you my blessing when it’s time
for you to follow your dreams.

I know it’s how you say, I love you.
I know others will hear it as a curse
and try to rinse your mouth out with soap.
But I will hear your I love you.

I will hear it so clearly my last words will be
I love you too, as I watch you
make something of yourself,

as I open my petals for the moon.

At Home, At The Bedside, Starting the JourneyAmy CunninghamJanuary 29, 2026Before Death

It is Hard to Sing of Oneness...

It is hard to sing of oneness when our world is not complete,
when those who have once brought wholeness to our life have gone,
and naught but memory can fill the emptiness their passing leaves behind.
But memory can tell us only what we were, in company with those we loved;
it cannot help us find what each of us,
alone, must now become.

Yet no one is really alone; those who live no more echo still within our thoughts and words,
and what they did is part of what we have become.
We do best homage to our dead when we live our lives most fully,
even in the shadow of our loss.

Mishkan HaNefesh: Machzor for the Days of Awe

-Jewish Prayer for High Holidays

May the Arms of God

May the arms of God/Love raise her from the darkness of this planets' earth and surround her with light;

If she is thirsty, give her water in the clearing.

If she is hungry, give her food in the clearing.

May her life on this Earth and the pain of her passing become as a dream to her waking soul,

and let her eyes fall upon every lovely sight; let her find her family and friends that have been lost to her,

and let everyone whose name she calls call her in return.

Blessed Are Those Who Give Meaning to Our Lives

Blessed are those who give meaning to our lives;

holy and precious is the example they leave behind.

We pray: May our sorrows diminish as we recall their strength.

May their wisdom protect us and help us to live.

Let our grief be transformed into tenderness for those who are still with us.

-- Jewish prayer

Peace, my Heart

Peace, my heart, let the time for
the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain
into songs.
Let the flight through the sky end
in the folding of the wings over the
nest.
Let the last touch of your hands be
gentle like the flower of the night.
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a
moment, and say your last words in
silence.
I bow to you and hold up my lamp
to light you on your way.

-- Rabindranath Tagore

The Jewish Viduy Prayer

I acknowledge before You, Lord my G‑d and the G‑d of my fathers, that my recovery and my death are in Your hands. May it be Your will that You heal me with total recovery, but, if I die, may my death be an atonement for all the errors, iniquities, and willful sins that I have erred, sinned and transgressed before You, and may You grant my share in the Garden of Eden, and grant me the merit to abide in the World to Come which is vouchsafed for the righteous.

At The BedsideAmy CunninghamNovember 14, 2024Before Death

Blessing for Separation

O Thou,

The Cause and Effect of the whole universe,

The Source from whence we have come

And the Goal toward which all are bound

Receive this soul who is coming to Thee

Into Thy parental arms.

May Thy forgiving glance heal his [her, their] heart.

Lift him [her, they] from the denseness of the earth.

Surround him [her, them] with the Light

Of Thine own Spirit.

Raise him [her, them] up to heaven

Which is his true dwelling place.

We pray Thee, grant him [her, them] the blessing

Of Thy most exalted Presence.

May his [her,their] life upon earth

Become as a dream to his [her, their] waking soul

And let his [her, their] thirsting eyes behold

The glorious vision of Thy Sunshine.

Amen

--Hazrat Inayat Khan

Goodnight

Goodnight; ensured release,
Imperishable peace,
Have these for yours,
While sea abides, and land,
And earth’s foundations stand,
and heaven endures.

When earth’s foundations flee,
nor sky nor land nor sea
At all is found
Content you, let them burn:
It is not your concern;
Sleep on, sleep sound.

—A.E Housman

Excerpt from "The Little Prince"

If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. All the stars are a-blossom with flowers.

And at night you will look up at the stars. Where I live, everything is so small that I cannot show you where my star is to be found. It is better like that. My star will just be one of the stars, for you. And so you will love to watch all of the stars in the heavens. They will be your friends.

All men have the stars, but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travellers, these stars are guides. For others, they are no more than little lights in the sky.

But all these stars are silent. You – you alone – will have the stars as no one else has them and in one of the stars, I shall be living. In one of them, I shall be laughing when you look at the sky at night.

And when your sorrow is comforted, for time soothes all sorrows, you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, just for that pleasure.'

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Go thy great way!

Go they great way!

The stars thou meetst

Are even as Thyself—

For what are Stars but Asterisks

To point a human Life?

Emily Dickinson

When Death Comes to Your Door

When death comes to your door

at the end of the day,

what treasures will you hand over to him?

I’ll bring my full soul before him.

I’ll not send him away empty-handed

the day he comes to my door.

Into my life-vessel pours the nectar

of countless evenings and dawns,

of numberless autumn and spring nights.

My heart gets filled with the sight

of endless fruits and flowers,

with the touch of joy and sorrow’s light and shade.

All the treasures I’ve gathered

during my lifelong preparation

I’m now arranging for the last day

to give it all to death –

the day death comes to my door.

——Rabindranath Tagore

At The BedsideAmy CunninghamNovember 17, 2021Before Death

Shadows

And if tonight my soul may find her peace
in sleep, and sink in good oblivion,
and in the morning wake like a new-opened flower then I have been dipped again in God, and new-created.
And if, as weeks go round, in the dark of the moon my spirit darkens and goes out, and soft strange gloom
pervades my movements and my thoughts and words
then I shall know that I am walking still
with God, we are close together now the moon’s in shadow.

And if, as autumn deepens and darkens
I feel the pain of falling leaves, and stems that break in storms and trouble and dissolution and distress
and then the softness of deep shadows folding,
folding around my soul and spirit, around my lips
so sweet, like a swoon, or more like the drowse of a low, sad song singing darker than the nightingale, on, on to the solstice
and the silence of short days, the silence of the year, the shadow, then I shall know that my life is moving still
with the dark earth, and drenched
with the deep oblivion of earth’s lapse and renewal.

And if, in the changing phases of man’s life
I fall in sickness and in misery
my wrists seem broken and my heart seems dead and strength is gone, and my life
is only the leavings of a life:
and still, among it all, snatches of lovely oblivion, and snatches of renewal
odd, wintry flowers upon the withered stem, yet new, strange flowers such as my life has not brought forth before, new blossoms of me—

then I must know that still
I am in the hands of the unknown God,
he is breaking me down to his own oblivion
to send me forth on a new morning, a new man.

—By D.H.Lawrence

At The Bedside, At Home, Last BreathAmy CunninghamJanuary 31, 2021Before Death

The Imprisoned Soul

At the last, tenderly,

From the walls of the powerful, fortress'd house,

From the clasp of the knitted locks—from the keep of the well-closed doors,

Let me be wafted.

Let me glide noiselessly forth;

With the key of softness unlock the locks—with a whisper

Set open the doors,

O soul! Tenderly! be not impatient! (Strong is your hold, O mortal flesh! Strong is your hold, O love!)

—Walt Whitman

At Home, At The BedsideAmy CunninghamJanuary 12, 2021Dying

Peace at the Last

May God/Love support us all the day long,

‘till the shadows lengthen, and the evening comes,

and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is o’er, and our work is done.

Then in His/Its mercy, may He/It give us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last.

Amen.

—adapted from St. John Cardinal Newman, C.O.

At The Bedside, Group Readiness, Last BreathAmy CunninghamJanuary 11, 2021At Death, Before Death, Commemorative Event

The Original Serenity Prayer

God, give us grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.

Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.

Amen.

by Reinhold Niebuhr

Lie Back—and the Sea Will Hold You

Lie back daughter, let your head

be tipped back in the cup of my hand.

Gently, and I will hold you. Spread

your arms wide, lie out on the stream

and look high at the gulls. A deadman’s

float is face down. You will dive

and swim soon enough where this tidewater

ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe

me, when you tire on the long thrash

to your island, lie up, and survive.

As you float now, where I held you

and let go, remember when fear

cramps your heart what I told you:

lie gently and wide to the light - year

stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.

-- Philip Booth

At The Bedside, Last BreathAmy CunninghamJune 23, 2019Dying

Marge Piercy's Kaddish

Look around us, search above us, below, behind.
We stand in a great web of being joined together.
Let us praise, let us love the life we are lent
passing through us in the body of Israel
and our own bodies, let’s say amein.

Time flows through us like water.
The past and the dead speak through us.
We breathe our children’s children, blessing.

Blessed is the earth from which we grow,
blessed the life we are lent,
blessed the ones who teach us,
blessed the ones we teach,
blessed is the word that cannot say the glory
that shines through us and remains to shine
flowing past distant suns on the way to forever.
Let’s say amein.

Blessed is the light, blessed is the darkness
but blessed above all else is peace
which bears the fruits of knowledge
on strong branches, let’s say amen.

Peace that bears joy into the world,
peace that enables love, peace over Israel
everywhere, blessed and holy is peace, let’s say amein.

-- Marge Piercy

Tibetan Dying Prayer

Through your blessing, grace, and guidance, through the power of
the light that streams from you:
May all my negative karma, destructive emotions, obscurations,
and blockages be purified and removed,
May I know myself forgiven for all the harm I may have thought
and done,
May I accomplish this profound practice of phowa, and die a good
and peaceful death,
And through the triumph of my death, may I be able to benefit all
other beings, living or dead.

-- Tibetan Book of the Dead

At The BedsideAmy CunninghamSeptember 21, 2017Dying

Prayer of Faith

We trust that beyond absence there is a presence.

That beyond the pain there can be healing.

That beyond the brokenness there can be wholeness.

That beyond the anger there may be peace.

That beyond the hurting there may be forgiveness.

That beyond the silence there may be the word.

That beyond the word there may be understanding.

That through understanding there is love.

-- Unknown

There is Sacredness in Tears

There is sacredness in tears.

They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.

They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.

-- Washington Irving

At the Cemetery, At The BedsideAmy CunninghamSeptember 8, 2017Final Resting Place, Preparing The Body