The Unexpected Death of a Loved One
The body is the central figure in the dreaming of the world.
ACIM T-27.VIII.1:1
There is nothing that shocks us more at our core or can bring us crashing back down to earth quite like the death of a loved one, especially if it is unexpected. It is a sobering reminder of the frailty of our bodies and just how mortal and utterly destructible our little lives are. Such was the case for me yesterday when I heard the news that a close friend’s brother who was only 32 had passed away in a car accident.
It’s a horrible feeling. The initial response hits you right in the gut, as a physical, sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach. What was a seemingly ordinary day has now been turned on its head and life suddenly feels more uncertain and surreal – more cold, lonely and cruel.
But as a student of A Course in Miracles, shouldn’t I know better than to let my mind wander into making such illusions real? Shouldn’t I be able to overlook these false images and gently laugh at the idea that there could ever be such a thing as bodies and death? Shouldn’t I be able to stay above the battleground, looking down on the frantic scenes that are playing out in my mind and shrugging them off as easily as images on a movie screen? Maybe tomorrow, perhaps the next day, but not today.
This person, who now no longer appears to be here, played an important role in the life of someone I love. Real or not, this was a character on my friend’s stage that will never appear in his play again. I am reminded of the feeling I often get after reading a good book, one where I have fully identified with the characters, and it feels like I have gotten to know them intimately. When the story is over, I will often feel sadness, a sense of sorrow, as if I have parted ways with a good friend. Similarly, when my daughter watched the Harry Potter movie series and got to the end, she spent a few days feeling down and a little lost. She had identified with the characters, with their lives and their stories, and now it was over, they were just actors leaving the stage. But to her she felt like she had lost someone – someone real.
And so it is with our everyday lives and the dream figures in them. All of the characters in our world are no more than mere actors playing their parts in our script. And eventually everyone has to leave the stage, the play cannot continue on forever. At some point it has to end. Some characters appear to play their part for longer, while others seem to have shorter roles, often leaving the stage in what the world sees as tragic circumstances.
It’s times like these when it can be particularly hard to remember who the people in our life really are. They are not the actors we identify with, and they are not the costumes they wear. If this was true, then it would be a sad state of affairs indeed. A short-lived character in a fleeting role cannot compete with the eternal light and holiness of Christ himself. Let us be glad that we have been wrong when we have mistaken these insubstantial and fleeting figures for who we are, and for who our loved ones are.
There is a tendency to see events in the world such as this car accident as sad and tragic. But at times like these it is helpful to remember, if we are able, that we ourselves cannot see the whole picture. How do we not know that this is not the perfect lesson for all involved, one that propels them into the stages of growth and transformation that will speed them on their path home? It is often true that it is the difficult and painful events in our life that are the catalyst for taking on our deeper inner work. It is when the dark becomes most apparent that we begin our search for the light. The Course asks us, “What could you not accept, if you but knew that everything that happens, all events past, present, and to come, are gently planned by One Whose only purpose is your good?” (W-p1.135.18:1).
There are bigger things at work behind the scenes of such tragedies, and we can never truthfully judge any circumstance in the world from our limited separated perspectives. So let us place our agony and despair over such events into the Holy Spirit’s hands, who sees the bigger picture that we cannot, and gently guides us, when we are ready, to see things differently.
When we are confronted with such a difficult lesson as the one my friend now faces, whether we are Course students or not, it’s so important to remember to be gentle and meet ourselves and others where we are. We may not yet be ready to look past the actors and the costumes that they wear. We may yet have a while to spend in the illusion, believing that this is who we are, that this is who our loved ones are. And that is okay. As Ken Wapnick would often say – be normal. Allow yourself to feel the pain, the hurt, the anger, to feel the absence and the grief of your loss. Everyone in their own time will be ready to look beyond the illusion of death and separation and to eventually change their mind. Until then, we need to try and remember to be gentle and kind with ourselves and others while we fumble our way through our illusions together.