Blossoming Roses

I lost a wonderful friend recently. She died rather suddenly though she had been ill and not diagnosed until recently. She was the kind of friend who showed her love through actions more than words. She knew what was needed and she gave herself to meet those needs.

Last fall when I started a new round of chemotherapy she was at my house waiting to welcome me home every Friday after my treatments. She would have walked my dogs, Maggie and Summer, so they would be chilled out when I got back. After settling me in, she read her latest novel on the sofa with Summer lying with her head in her lap and her tummy being scratched and Maggie asleep right at her feet. She stayed until she was sure I was OK and comfortable. I felt so cared for and loved – and safe. She was here for me, and I was grateful and blessed. Now she has died of the illness she helped me through. Who could have known or guessed that this would happen?

It is a perfect example of what I often say to my clients. We live in the face of life, not knowing what the next page or the next chapter will present. None of us knows what tomorrow will be. Life is a mystery we create with everyday we are privileged to live. It behooves us to be loving, generous, and grateful for all the opportunities we have to let others know how much we value and respect them. It also helps to be conscious of the gifts each day offers. Moment by moment the river of life flows on through changing territory that sometimes surprises us with joys and sorrows we couldn’t have anticipated, planned, or prevented.

Friday when I came home from treatment, her car wasn’t in my driveway. She wasn’t here. Maggie and Summer weren’t drunk with the love and attention she showered on them. We carried on, and we are grieving for what was so precious and no longer is. Life has changed, and change is a big challenge. All too often we waste precious energy trying to avoid it, because we fear the emotional pain we will experience when we let go of what once was and face what now is that must be accepted and embraced.

So I’ve cried a lot... I’ve been angry too. I’m also relieved to know my friend is no longer in pain as she was. I’ve felt her presence. Before I got the phone call telling me she had died, I awoke feeling wonderful – feeling whole and healthy and totally blessed. A picture came into my mind. I saw a vase of fully blossomed roses that were a lovely salmon pink color. I was grateful for the beautiful image.

A few minutes later I was meditating when I heard the phone ring. I chose not to interrupt the process I was in and take the call at that moment. I wondered if it might be my daughter calling from Europe where she and her family have been vacationing. Then I knew. My friend had died in the night. It was 7:00 AM, and I was being notified.

So I wasn’t surprised when I heard the message and then returned the call. When I got off the phone, I suddenly felt exhausted – a stark contrast to my feelings less than an hour before. I knew I needed to cry. So I finished making the bed and sat down to pet my dogs she loved. That started my tears flowing. I surrendered to them as I’ve learned to do. I let them flow. I didn’t hold back. I felt better. My energy came back. It was no longer being consumed by the effort required to keep those tears of pain and loss at bay. A little while later I realized that the roses I had seen in that spontaneous awakening image were the color of the bouquet of rosebuds I had taken to my friend soon after she went to the hospital. I believe that image was her way of letting me know she had crossed over to the world of spirit – now fully blossomed into new life.

I recalled a quote I’ve referred to often in the past two weeks. I encountered it in the first chapter of an amazing book titled Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow. The author is Elizabeth Lesser whose writing is wonderful artistry and a healing gift to read. She tells of finding this quote on a painting of a rose that was shown to her in a rug shop in Jerusalem when she was visiting there during a difficult period early in her adult life.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.--Anais Nin

My friend has blossomed. She left the material world. Her body was worn out, and she let it go. I miss her, and I know she is still close by. She is giving me gifts in her dying as she gave me great gifts in her living. I thank her, and I thank God for her. Her dying challenges me to blossom ever more fully in the life I am blessed to continue living.

Her name was Susan Courtney Fowler. She loved people, children, and animals. She was a teacher and a coach. She was shy. She was private. She changed lives with her love, her wisdom, her persistence, her patience, and her presence. She lived well. She remains alive in the hearts of all of us who knew and loved her.

Gloria in Excelsis Deo!