The Gift Of Death
One
of
my
favorite
newsletters
is
The
Common
Thread.
It
is
pieced
together
by
a
couple
of
my
favorite
people
in
Pittsburgh,
PA.
I
enjoy
it
because
it
is
jammed
with
stories
of
families,
friends,
children,
neighbors,
struggles
and
joys.
In
the
December
'92
issue
(or
there
about)
there
was
talk
of
the
concept
of
giftedness.
The
idea
that
we
all
have
gifts,
and
maybe
even
a
special
gift
to
give
to
others.
And
that
we
must
give
and
receive.
This
of
course
requires
the
seeing
of
ones
own
gifts
and
the
recognizing
of
gifts
that
may
come
from
others.
I
received
a
gift
from
my
dearest
friend
and
Mother
on
December
30,
1992
at
1:15
P.M.
Pacific
Standard
time.
Mom
took
two
short
breaths
and
died
while
being
held
securely
in
my
arms.
The
living
room
was
still,
my
Mother
was
gone
and
I
knew
I
had
been
blessed.
I
did
not
know
how,
and
I
do
not
know
yet.
It
has
only
been
12
days
that
I
have
lived
without
Mother
on
earth.
I
have
been
busy
with
funeral
arrangements,
trustee
business
and
the
building
of
a
circle
to
support
my
Father.
As
I
read
the
Common
Thread
the
stories
of
birth,
children
and
parents
held
many
insights.
I
got
the
urge
to
say,
"And
death
is
filled
with
insights
as
well".
I
assert
that
we
can
never
truly
"know"
until
the
end
presents
itself.
While
I
take
nothing
away
from
the
impact
of
witnessing
a
birth
or
being
part
of
neighbors
helping
neighbors,
I
simply
say,
"death
is
a
wondrous
part
of
living
and
there
is
something
there
worth
celebrating."
As
my
family
and
I
organized
Mothers
clothes,
jewelry,
kitchen
items,
and
keepsakes
we
shared
much,
grew
together,
cried
and
embraced
the
gifts
Mother
left
behind.
One
was
tangible
and
immediate.
The
final
year
of
Mothers
life
she
could
not
eat
as
her
throat
was
blocked.
She
always
thought
that
this
would
pass
and
she
wanted
to
be
prepared.
In
her
desk,
her
linen
chest,
her
dresser
drawers,
and
throughout
the
kitchen
we
found,
tucked
into
corners
and
hidden
for
safekeeping;
chocolate
bars,
gourmet,
large
chocolate
bars.
We
lovingly
staked
them
up
as
we
had
found
something
sacred.
And
then
we
ate
them.
The
second
gift
is
revealing
itself
daily.
I
cannot
put
what
has
come
to
my
heart
into
words.
When
I
held
Mom
in
my
arms
at
1:15
P.M.
it
was
warm,
it
was
intense
and
it
was
family
love
and
narrative
being
passed
on.
On
Christmas
day
1992
Mom
spoke
to
each
one
of
her
children
and
her
husband
about
love.
She
said
to
Dad
"Write
down
that
you
love
me
and
the
kids
then
show
it
so
everyone
will
know",
she
was
fearful
that
when
she
could
no
longer
proclaim
the
family
ties
we
would
all
fall
apart.
I
share
her
fear.
She
would
often
say,
"Call
your
brother",
"Your
Father
loves
you",
"Family
is
very
important
to
your
brother".
Who
now
will
play
that
role?
She
will
never
witness
the
continual
growth
of
her
message.
Only
her
death
allows
us
to
reflect
and
act
on
her
greatest
gift.
These
two
gifts,
reflection
and
action
are
Moms
legacies
and
possible
only
through
her
death.
When
I
was
younger
I
would
think
I
could
not
do
this
or
that
because,
"What
would
Mom
say?"
I
would
even
reason
that
I
would
take
certain
actions
when
Mom
was
no
longer
alive.
Now
I
discover
that
she
is
in
me
and
as
a
result
everywhere.
I
miss
my
Mother
and
will
continue
to
grieve.
Because
of
her
gifts
I
have
no
fear
of
losing
what
she
is
and
what
she
gives
-
no
person
or
event
can
take
that
away.
Death
is
a
difficult
event.
Is
it
always
"bad"?
With
the
gifts
I
received
through
the
death
of
someone
I
love,
I
say
death
is
a
glorious
part
of
life
worth
celebrating.