Have you ever been present for a moment of serendipity that puts you in the right place to witness something special? I had that experience this week during an outdoor workout. Just after the sun had gone down, I was finishing my walk. Across the field I saw a dot of light lift into the sky. I watched the light as it rose, floating through the air. I tracked the light as it dipped and drifted, then vanished from sight.
It was a wish lantern. Originally used in ancient China as a means to signal troops, wish lanterns or sky lanterns are now part of celebrations and festivals. In some cultures wishes, hopes, and prayers are written on the paper lanterns before their release into the air.
Being present for the release of that lantern seemed like being a witness to a sacred moment. I didn’t have any way of knowing why that person was releasing the lantern. It still made me stop to watch. It felt right to be still, to be quiet out of respect. Maybe the lantern was lit and released with a wish, or maybe it was sent up with a message to someone who had died.
The Bonfire Memorial, Texas A&M University, College Station, TX-photo by Helen Bauer, The Heart of Hospice
When a friend of mine died a couple of years ago, I wanted to find a way to say a personal goodbye. I went to the cemetery at dusk on the day her headstone was placed and I released a lantern. The soft flickering light was a message, a connection between her and me that was intensely personal. My grief needed to be expressed in that silent moment of reflection. It was custom made for me.
On the campus of Texas A&M University there’s a memorial to 12 students who were killed in an accident during the building of the 1999 bonfire. When I’m in College Station I walk on the campus for my workout. During my cool down, I make my way to the memorial and walk its perimeter in silence. The memorial is a beautiful tribute to the victims of the bonfire collapse, and symbolizes the spirit of the thousands of Texas Aggies who cherish the school. It’s a place designed for reflection and meditation.
The Bonfire Memorial, Texas A&M University, College Station, TX-Photo by Helen Bauer, The Heart of Hospice
Walking through the bonfire memorial is comforting when I’ve had a rough day. Maybe it’s a little weird to think of it that way, but the structure of the memorial is inspiring. Each victim has his or her space in the memorial, containing poetry, letters, and cherished memories. While I was never a student there, there’s a sense of connection. My sister graduated from Texas A&M. My brother proposed to his wife at a bonfire, and my beautiful niece is currently a student there. It feels comforting.
The Bonfire Memorial, Texas A&M University, College Station, TX-Photo by Helen Bauer, The Heart of Hospice
What brings you comfort when you’re grieving? A good cry, or a snuggle with a beloved pet or time with a cuddly grandbaby? My friend Katie (co-author of Living with Dying: A Complete Guide for Caregivers) releases her grief during hikes with her dog. Music can be a great release for grief emotions. Try some time at the beach or in the woods. Just figure out what works for you. As long as it’s healthy for you and the ones around you, there’s not really a wrong way to do it. It can look a million different ways.
So find the grief expression that eases your heart. Let those emotions flow and find comfort.
And remember, no matter who you are, or where you are in your hospice journey, you are The Heart of Hospice.