She received a text from a friend early on Good Friday morning. “Dad passed away yesterday. We were all there with him. He was such a special guy. Extremely glad I got to spend so much time with him the last few years.”
Maundy Thursday, falling in Holy Week before Good Friday, commemorates the Last Supper, where Jesus instituted Holy Communion (Eucharist) and washed his disciples’ feet to model service. It marks the new commandment for us to “love one another.”
She expressed appreciation for having received the news. “We also feel so honored we share your view that he really was a special guy. The other side of the veil just gained one of the best. I am imagining one heck of a welcome party!!!!”
Right after she sent that text message it came to her mind to share Thích Nhất Hạnh, No Death, No Fear, about his mother having died.
The day my mother died I wrote in my journal, “A serious misfortune of my life has arrived.” I suffered for more than one year after the passing away of my mother. But one night, in the highlands of Vietnam, I was sleeping in the hut in my hermitage. I dreamed of my mother. I saw myself sitting with her, and we were having a wonderful talk. She looked young and beautiful, her hair flowing down. It was so pleasant to sit there and talk to her as if she had never died. When I woke up it was about two in the morning, and I felt very strongly that I had never lost my mother. The impression that my mother was still with me was very clear. I understood then that the idea of having lost my mother was just an idea. It was obvious in that moment that my mother is always alive in me.
I opened the door and went outside. The entire hillside was bathed in moonlight. It was a hill covered with tea plants, and my hut was set behind the temple halfway up. Walking slowly in the moonlight through the rows of tea plants, I noticed my mother was still with me. She was the moonlight caressing me as she had done so often, very tender, very sweet… wonderful! Each time my feet touched the earth I knew my mother was there with me. I knew this body was not mine but a living continuation of my mother and my father and my grandparents and great-grandparents. Of all my ancestors. Those feet that I saw as “my” feet were actually “our” feet. Together my mother and I were leaving footprints in the damp soil.
From that moment on, the idea that I had lost my mother no longer existed. All I had to do was look at the palm of my hand, feel the breeze on my face or the earth under my feet to remember that my mother is always with me, available at any time.
Her friend wrote back, “I guess I’m lucky, because I felt he was in me as soon as he was gone. I looked at his body and it almost meant nothing to me. One thing I did do: The hospice nurse asked what clothes I wanted put on him. I went to my house and got his deer hunting clothes. He left dressed the way he was when he was happiest.”
A bit later, she also received this news from her friend: “A lone Jake turkey visited our house this morning. It was suddenly right outside the window while I was eating breakfast. Only the second time I’ve seen a turkey since we moved to this house.”
Adapted from AI: Loved one, including pets and human family, may appear as animals after death. These experiences are often considered spiritual visits or symbols of the afterlife. Some believe because animals are “high vibrational beings,” they can navigate between realms, allowing the spirits of our loved ones to visit through them. These visits are viewed as a way for deceased loved ones to show they are still part of the family’s journey, bringing peace and confirming that they have not truly left.
Holy God, source of all love,
on the night of his betrayal,
Jesus gave us a new commandment,
to love one another as he loves us.
