Life is but a fleeting breath. — Ecclesiastes
It all comes back to breath.
We breathe automatically as we sleep, as we go through our days, as we run, lift, climb, move, work, play.
It’s so habitual that it’s easy to take it for granted.
Even in the moments we think we aren’t breathing — when we are “out of breath” or “breathless” — we are breathing.
Your breath breathes you.
Our first inhale is the seed of inspiration, bringing spirit into our body: a seed of potential for a life to be lived.
Our final exhale is our expiration, when spirit leaves our bodies.
Nothing I have ever read about that moment could have prepared me for the experience of watching someone I love in that final moment.
As I held my grandma’s feet, I watched as her rattling breath slowed down. The room got quiet.
Her last exhale was soft, more quiet than I had imagined. It was peaceful.
One moment she was there, and the next she was gone. Her body lay on the bed, no longer animated by spirit. She had expired.
To be witness to that moment was both a heartbreak and a great privilege.
In being present for her in that moment of death, I came to more fully appreciate the miracle of life.
[…] weeks ago, on October 9, 2024, my grandma died at the age of 99. Below is the full eulogy I wrote for her […]