My grandfather was suffering from cancer. As a healer, I decided to shamanic journey to request a healing for him. During the journey, I was not led to the spirit guide who usually performed the healings. Instead, a woman with a beautiful, stark face and long raven hair came up to me. She rode a black horse and wore a black flowing cape. She motioned for me to follow her.
She rode through ancient catacombs. The dark stone tunnel was full of skeletons. We continue forward into a night sky that eventually became complete blackness. The horse’s hooves shifted though black sand and finally we stopped. We stood in what appeared to be nothing but utter and complete blackness.
She lifted her hand and motioned to the blackness around us and finally said, “This is what he is afraid of. That there is nothing after he dies. No heaven… no afterlife… nothing.”
This made sense. My grandmother had told me that my grandfather would wake in the middle of night and sit in the kitchen, just to make sure he didn’t die in the middle of the night. He was afraid to die.
A few months later, after a month in rehab to build my grandfather’s strength, a nurse called my grandmother and told her he was coming home that day. My grandmother was excited and went to the rehab center to tell my grandfather she was prepared for him to come home. They had been married for over 65 years and she missed him.
But when she got there, my grandfather told her that he wanted to die, and that he had asked God to take him that day, and God had agreed. He gave my grandmother scrap pieces of paper he had wrote sentiments and instructions on, so she wouldn’t forget (she had a stroke a few years earlier), and told her to tell everyone that he loved them. But, seeing a healthy man before her, she went home to wait for him.
In the middle of the afternoon, the rehab center called my grandmother to tell her that my grandfather had passed away.
A healing is not always a physical healing. To me, my grandfather had been healed. He had accepted his death. He had come to firmly believe that he would go meet God and not dissolve into nothingness, as he had feared earlier. I am proud of how he met death on his terms. It was such an Apache way to die.
Blessed journeys!
Filed under: Death and Dying, Healing, Religion, Shamanism, Spirituality | Tagged: Apache, Death and Dying, God, heaven, shamanic healing, Spirituality
[...] It’s was a good day to die. [...]