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.