The Sacred Art of Dying

A Sister’s farewell and the sacred art of dying

A few weeks ago, I made a hurried journey to Spain to be with my elder sister. She lay dying in a stark and clinical hospital room, far away from the warmth and familiarity of her home.

For two years, my sister had been battling an unrelenting Cancer.  Hopeful, she clung to life with determination. She refused to surrender to death without a fight.

Our relationship in recent years had grown distant. Perhaps I was the last person she expected to sit by her side in her final moments. Now the bond of sisterhood proved stronger than anything. When I learned she had been admitted to hospital, I knew I had to go to her.

 The beginnings of awareness

As a child I vividly remember my parents sharing sombre news of the passing of friends, neighbours, and distant relatives. I watched my father weep at the sudden death of a dear friend and colleague during a business trip. These experiences ignited in me a deep curiosity about the mysteries of death. What happens to us as we die, and what lies beyond?

I sensed intuitively that death was not an end, but a transformation. Beyond the shedding of the physical body lay something vast and boundless, dimensions unseen but deeply felt.

Awareness into practice 

As a trainee nun in South Africa, I was asked to visit a dying Sister whom I barely knew. It was a duty of care assigned to us as part of our communal life. Another Sister described her as “building a spiritual body.” Even then, I grasped the essence of this concept: the idea of preparing oneself for the journey beyond.

In my work as a parish priest and a healthcare chaplain, I have had the profound privilege of accompanying the dying and their loved ones through life’s most poignant transitions. Whether tragic or peaceful, each death carried its unique weight, its own rhythm of sacredness.

At these times I was I asked to offer prayers – not recited from habit, but crafted with intention, each word chosen with the weight of eternity. These prayers, steeped in ancient traditions, serve as a bridge between the physical and the spiritual. They help the dying to release their earthly bonds and step into the unknown.

Traditions of passage

Different spiritual traditions offer profound insights into the process of dying. In Buddhism, prayers for the dying are seen as essential, guiding the soul through the Bardo – the transitional state between life and rebirth. In Roman Catholicism, prayers for the dead continue in the days and weeks after passing, ensuring the soul’s safe journey into divine light.

Shamanic practices embody the understanding that the transition from life to death is seen as a sacred journey.  Ritual and care help the spirit move forward. It’s a if we’re gathering the threads of our mortal experience, packing them up for a new adventure beyond the physical realm.

 Sitting with my Sister

In that clinical hospital room, I drew upon these profound and powerful resources. I sat with my Sister, chanting softly, shaking my Shaman’s rattle to cleanse and release her from the bonds of her physical form. My hands moved as if untying invisible ropes, freeing her spirit for its onward journey. I spoke to her, Sister to Sister, and offered prayers to guide her into the boundless realms.

Later, in the hospital mortuary, I repeated these rituals. Though she was no longer present in her body, I called upon divine healing to support her vulnerable spirit as it ventured into the great beyond.

 Caring for the dying, caring for ourselves

I recognise that such practices may feel unfamiliar or even unsettling to some. Yet, I believe that tending to our loved ones in their dying moments is one of the most profound acts of love we can offer. Whether through prayer, ritual, or simple presence, this care helps both the dying and those left behind.

For those who believe in an afterlife, such acts offer comfort in knowing we have aided our loved one’s transition. For those who do not, this attentiveness becomes a way of honouring their life and wrapping up the story of their mortal existence with grace.

As we value the gift of life, so we must honour its ending. Death is not merely an event; it’s a sacred journey. To sit with a dying loved one, to hold them in love and care as they leave this world, is both a privilege and a responsibility.

And in tending to their departure, we begin the process of tending to our grief. In offering them peace, we find a measure of it for ourselves, knowing that we have helped them travel onwards – into the light, into the unknown, and always into the hearts of those who remember them.

Do you have stories like this feel able to share? I’d be honoured if you did so.

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The Two Years’ Myth

Debunking Grief Myths: Understanding the Journey Through Loss

Grief is an experience as unique as the individuals who endure it. Yet, amidst the deeply personal nature of grieving, many well-meaning people offer “penny wisdom” in the form of common myths and platitudes. While these suggestions may come from a place of care, they often leave the bereaved feeling unheard, unseen, and more isolated than ever.

Let’s look at the Two Year Grief Myth.

The two year grief myth suggests that grief subsides significantly after two years. By this point, we’re expected to feel “normal” again, ready to re-engage with life, and somehow “move on.” But grief doesn’t work like that.

After two years—or any arbitrary timeframe—many find that their old self is no longer “in residence.” The person we were before our loss is forever changed. Grief doesn’t follow a neat, linear path, and it certainly doesn’t adhere to a schedule.

Dr Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’ five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are often misunderstood as a linear roadmap. In truth, Kübler-Ross herself emphasised that these emotions are not sequential and may arise in any order, repeatedly or simultaneously. This fluidity is a reminder that grief is not something to be conquered but rather an experience to be integrated into our lives.

Grief isn’t a straight road

Grief feels less like a straight road and more like a wild, turbulent ocean. Waves of emotion crash in, recede, and then return with renewed force. A two-year timeline—or any timeline—cannot capture this reality. For some, the intensity of grief may soften with time, but for others, it remains sharp and overwhelming. There is no universal “right way” to grieve.

The Challenge of “Moving On”

The idea of “moving on” can feel like a betrayal of the love and connection we shared with the person we’ve lost. For many, the thought of “moving on” is unbearable; it suggests leaving our loved ones behind. Instead, grief invites us to create enduring bonds with those we’ve lost, carrying their memory in our hearts and lives.

This isn’t easy. It requires time, effort, and space to process our pain. It’s not about forgetting or leaving behind but about finding ways to carry our love forward.

Practical Steps for Navigating Grief

While there’s no way to “fix” grief, there are ways to support ourselves through it. Here are some practices that may help:

  • Acknowledge the uniqueness of your grief
    Grief affects everyone differently. Take time to explore how it feels in your body, mind, emotions, and spirit. Understanding your unique experience can make it feel less overwhelming.
  • Honour special days and memories
    Use anniversaries, birthdays, and other significant dates to actively remember your loved one. Light a candle, look through photos, or talk to them out loud. These rituals help nourish the connection and affirm your journey.
  •  Your grief resource pack 
    Keep tools at hand for when grief feels too heavy:
    – Contact details for trusted friends who truly understand your experience.
    – Support from grief charities or helplines offering 24/7 help.
    – A peaceful outdoor spot that brings comfort.
    – Comforting foods, uplifting music, or a book that soothes your soul.
    – Meditation or sound therapy apps for calming moments.
  • Seek connection 
    Grief can feel isolating, but reaching out to family, friends, or support groups can provide comfort and understanding.
  • When to seek professional support
    If your grief feels too overwhelming to manage alone, working with a therapist can be a transformative step. It’s never too early—or too late—to seek help.
  • Sit light to expectations 
    Focus on today and tomorrow rather than projecting grief into the distant future. This can reduce the mental load and allow you to take each moment as it comes.

Grief becomes us

Grief becomes part of who we are. It shapes us in profound ways, but it doesn’t have to dominate us. By leaning into our grief rather than resisting it, we can find ways to carry it with us while honouring our loved ones and nurturing ourselves.

 

If the reflections in this post resonate with you, consider reaching out. As a grief therapist, I’ve walked alongside many individuals on their healing journeys. You don’t have to navigate this alone. Together, we can explore the path forward when you’re ready.