Sacred Time – May 13, 2018

Dear Friends,

In April of 2009, my mother was dying. We didn’t know how long it would be, but it was inevitable. Her body had served its time in this life. She was at home, with the support of hospice and her six children. I was also in the middle of two big projects at work, where I was integral. I knew that my priority was to be with my mom, however long it took. This was precious time that I would never get back; but nonetheless, I still felt torn. How could this be? I was the founder of a company that prides itself on our culture of supporting our team members to take care of themselves, and their loved ones, as a priority. Certainly, that applied to me as well. And here I was, feeling guilty! Years of corporate conditioning kicked in and the fear of not being at work and what that might mean for the team, and their perception of me, reared its head. Luckily, we had built this beautiful culture, and when I expressed my hesitation, my team immediately stepped in and said “We’ve got it Barbara, you have more important things to do right now. Don’t worry about work.”

Recalling this story still brings tears to my eyes on so many levels. Tears of gratitude for my supportive team and for the culture we have built; and tears of sadness for how difficult it is for people to make these decisions in life. How many thousands of people have been torn away from doing the right thing—being with a dying loved one, a sick child or taking care of themselves—because they felt they would be jeopardizing their livelihood on some level.

The story of my mother’s death is relevant today on so many levels. First, it’s Mother’s Day. And it’s also the day my mother gave birth to me. Every seven years my birthday falls on Mother’s Day, and it’s an extra special day. It’s also special because I am celebrating in Yosemite, a spiritual power center for me. I discovered my special connection with Yosemite in May of 2009, shortly before my mother died. I was drawn up here then for a day and night of quiet and reflection. My mother was nearing death we could tell. She hadn’t been conversing with us for over a week, had stopped eating and slept most of the time.

On May 13, 2009, I was home with my own two daughters to celebrate my birthday and Mother’s Day. My sister called me from my mother’s bedside and said, “Mom has something to say to you.” Then I heard my mother’s beautiful voice singing happy birthday to me. Words cannot express the poignancy of that moment. That sacred miracle and gift. Tears are with me now as I remember it. She hadn’t spoken for days and yet was able to coherently sing happy birthday to me.

I returned to her bedside in Southern California the following day. Grateful that she had not died on Mother’s Day nor my birthday. I felt she deliberately didn’t, so as not to conflate memories of death with memories of birth. I was by her side, along with my three sisters, when she passed on May 17. To this day, I keep this poem up in my office, with a picture of Patricia (Real) Fagan:

Remembered Joy

Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free!
I follow the plan God laid for me.
I saw his face, I heard his call,
I took his hand and left it all…
I could not stay another day,
To love, to laugh, to work or play;
tasks left undone must stay that way.
And if my parting has left a void,
then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss…
Ah yes, these things I too shall miss.
My life’s been full, I’ve savored much;
good times, good friends, a loved one’s touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief –
don’t shorten yours with undue grief.
Be not burdened with tears of sorrow,
enjoy the sunshine today and tomorrow.

Love you Mom!!

Barbara