It’s been about a year since a very close friend of mine died in a sudden and difficult way. The passing of this friend, as well as the months leading up to it and the emotions that arose in its wake, coloured my past year in very significant ways. It was the closest and rawest that death has touched my life up to this point, and though this experience challenged and rocked me to the core, it has also been one of the most profound, humbling, eye opening and heart deepening things I have gone through.
The feelings of confusion, overwhelm, sadness, dread and futility that arose as I came to terms with this loss felt like towering walls of emotion - intense to the point that they seemed immovable, so strong that I simply had to let go and let them move through me at their own pace. In practice, this looked like me stepping back from most external activities and devoting the majority of my time to simply being with all of it for a period. Not aggressively trying to rush through or ignore my grief, but instead feeling into and exploring all of the questions and sore spots that came with it.
Part of my confusion was purely existential: Where is my friend now? Are they okay? What are they up to? Some of it was self directed: Could I have been a better person, and would that have changed this all? None of these questions had easy answers (some of the questions burning in me didn’t even make sense), though I found myself compelled to search regardless.
I began devouring books on the subject of death, the afterlife, and various related subjects. I’ve read a lot in my life, and had periods of intense solitude where books were a big fixation, but I’ve never consumed words the way I did at this time. I would often devour a book in less than a day, soaking up another perspective, another insight into the other side, into the mystery of death and life beyond it.
I would go the library to find a stack of new (to me) books, sometimes judging them simply by their cover or a quick flip through, and I found over and over again that the books on death or grief that were more secular, for lack of a better term, evoked a feeling of repulsion in me. To make that a bit clearer: What I mean by secular (and I know this isn’t exactly the perfect use of that word) is that all of the books which treated death as an ending - the finale of a story, a senseless passage into oblivion as opposed to the transition of an immortal soul - evoked an almost physiological response in me, causing me to shove them back onto the shelf as quickly as possible the moment I realized this critical piece of information.
These books might have held gifts for others, but for me, the only thing that made sense, the medicine I was craving, was to stretch my consciousness and the idea of death itself into something more expansive. The idea that my friend continued in some essential way was immensely freeing, and the more I sat with it, the more deeply I explored it, the more healing it was. On the other hand, the idea that he was actually dead, that it was game over, that all there is after the heart stops beating is oblivion, was a complete mindfuck. It wasn’t a concept I could even get close enough to so that I could entertain it - I simply felt emotionally or spiritually allergic to the books that held this mechanistic perspective, which I found really interesting.
I personally believe that physical death is not an ending whatsoever, probably more of an awakening. Such a raw experience, however, challenged me to dig deeper into that belief and see if I could truly hold it in the face of real death. What became very interesting to me as I looked at this, however, was the realization that regardless of whether one accepts the idea of a soul continuing after physical death to be true or not, it seems almost certain that it is a more psychologically healthy and enjoyable way of looking at both death and life.
In the immediate wake of my friend’s death, although these kinds of philosophical musings were interesting, my grief was still incredibly raw and charged - to the point of being all consuming. Fortunately another friend suggested a very wise way of giving direction to it. She said that for the initial month after this transition, I could engage in a form of prayer or meditation at a specific time, for a half hour first thing in the morning and again last thing in the evening. She would do the same. The intention of these prayer/meditation sessions was to send love and support to my friend’s soul as they made their transition - to shower them with healing energy, gratitude and praise for the gifts they brought to earth while they were here. We were to offer energetic support, as it might be challenging for them adjusting to their new reality. It certainly seemed that sending them loving energy could be a better use of my grief than sinking into the self absorbed depths of depression and existential despair.
And so I did this, and I approached it as though I was doing it for my friend. I was doing it because their soul deserved and might truly benefit from those who they had touched sending love, support and praise their way. I cannot say how it did or did not affect them. What I can say though is how it helped me. There was something so powerful about this seemingly simple ritual. During those morning and evening sessions I would be filled with love, moved to deep sobbing, then laughter, and many places in between. Sometimes I wouldn’t feel much at all, sometimes I felt the presence of my friend, but mostly I remember a sense of purpose that was very soothing. I was taking these towering emotions and giving them a space to move in a life affirming way. I was talking to my friend, to the universe, to anyone who would listen, mustering all the loving energy I could with a sense of duty, rather than collapsing into a heaving mass (although that was part of the process at times, too). This was a very healing experience.
I followed my schedule with this prayer practice religiously for a while, but at some point before the prescribed month had passed, I felt like it wasn’t needed any more. First the sessions got shorter. Then just once a day. Then it simply felt like my friend had already moved beyond needing my support, though I can’t explain how or why. The friend who initially suggested this practice to me and had been doing her own version of it during this time said that she had felt that same shift, also.
Again, whether what I was doing actually had any relation to my friend’s soul is not something I personally can prove or even claim to understand - what I know for sure, however, is that by engaging in that practice, by accepting this reality and participating within it, I was able to do something very life affirming with my grief. Some of the most painful things about the sudden loss of a loved one are the feelings of helplessness and futility that are often evoked. Having a creative outlet, a way of taking my feelings and giving them life affirming action, was incredibly helpful. As I said above, I believe the soul continues far beyond the body, but even if you aren’t sure, having somewhere to put your grief - being able to turn it into a prayerful offering of love and support to the soul of someone you deeply care for, probably sounds like a really good idea.
Having something to do with those feelings at that time didn’t make them go away, but it did begin a process of healing and growth that I am very grateful to be continuing to moving through - and I say that because this entire experience opened up a new exploration that I am fairly certain will continue through the rest of this life, and beyond.
Over to you: Does this post bring up any thoughts, questions, or experiences of your own you’d like to share? I’d love to hear from you if that’s the case - comments below or messages to me are always welcome!
About the Author:
My name is Miles, I am a writer and facilitator that focuses on the process of moving from fear, shame and pain to an open hearted and authentic way of being. I love working with people directly, helping them work with the unique feelings, gifts and lessons that are gateways to their greatest growth, power, joy and wisdom. If you’re interested in learning more, find out about me and my mentorship work.