Death's Whisper: How Loss Illuminated My Spiritual Path
"When we realize that death is inevitable and can come at any moment, we learn to live our lives fully, with clarity and compassion, without holding on to the illusion of permanence."
— Sogyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying
After my Evangelical minister aunt passed away in 2006, I found a Quran hidden under her bed. This unexpected discovery became my permission slip to dive deeper into spirituality and ask the questions I'd held back. As I grew older, my spiritual exploration intensified—I checked out books on various religions, scoured the internet for wisdom, and visited temples across the United States and internationally.
But January 2025 felt different. Something shifted within me. I deliberately reduced my news intake, immersed myself in spiritual audiobooks, followed enlightened teachers on YouTube, and embraced the healing power of silence—a practice I deepened during my silent retreat in 2024. This intentional shift seemed to amplify something within me that I'd always sensed but rarely acknowledged: my clairaudience.
The Voice I Couldn't Ignore
Since January, I’ve been hearing my grandmother crying in my head, saying, “He’s gone!” I nervously brushed it off, though deep down, I knew something was coming. Since the fall of 2024, I had a strong sense that someone in my family would pass before spring, but I didn’t know who.
On February 18th, I received a call that confirmed what my intuition had prepared me for.
After returning home from a doctor's appointment, my phone rang. It was my mother. I could hear the emotional distress of my grandmother in the background. My mother shared that her brother had unexpectedly passed away.
I fell completely silent for what seemed like an eternity. When I finally found my voice, I told her about the crying I'd been hearing in my head for weeks—my grandmother's cries that I'd been dismissing. As the reality sank in, my body began to tremble uncontrollably.
After hanging up with my mother, I burst into tears and hugged my husband. Although I wasn’t very close to my uncle, it still hurt. He always told me he was proud of me and was supportive. I was his only niece. He left behind his partner, several children, and two grandchildren.
Creating Sacred Space for Transition
I immediately retreated to my closet to meditate, pray, and read a passage from The Tibetan Book of the Dead to help guide him into the next realm. I also told my uncle that my “psychic light” was on and that he could talk to me anytime and was welcome in my dreams. I also sent a prayer request to the Lamas at Tergar International, asking that they pray for my uncle’s soul and the family, along with a donation in his memory. They emailed me to express their condolences and assured me the monks and Lamas would pray for him immediately.
Before my uncle transitioned, he had shared his wishes a couple of weeks before he passed away: he wanted to be cremated and for his ashes to be spread over his grandmother’s grave in Mississippi so she could keep him warm at night.
I chose not to attend his memorial service back in Chicago. Instead, I sent love and support from here in the Southwest. That meant several hours of phone calls and text messages leading up to and after the service. My mom later told me everything went well and that she was glad it was finally over. I will try to make it to Mississippi as his ashes are released back into the elements.
But honestly, when a family member dies unexpectedly, it feels like they die a thousand times over until you find closure about what happened and who is responsible.
Embracing Impermanence Grief
For the past couple of years, I've been grappling with what I've come to recognize as impermanence grief—the deep sorrow that arises from recognizing the constant change and fleeting nature of existence. This grief isn't tied to a specific loss but rather the bittersweet realization that nothing lasts forever.
This awareness encourages reflection, prompting us to cherish each moment while accepting that change and loss are inevitable parts of being alive.
For me, impermanence grief emerges in ordinary moments that suddenly reveal their preciousness:
Sharing a smile with my husband over dinner, knowing there will come a time when we won't experience each other’s smiles again.
Hearing my mother's distinctive laugh, aware that someday I'll miss it, or she'll miss mine.
Talking about cars and day trading with my father, fully recognizing these conversations have a finite number.
Playing with my dog, conscious that his time with me is limited.
These moments carry the weight of impermanence, transforming them from background noise into treasures to be savored.
Finding Light in the Awareness of Darkness
As I lean deeper into my spiritual practice, I'm reminded of a truth that resonates across traditions: energy never dies—it only transforms. This understanding has helped me navigate impermanence grief by:
Living fully present in each moment.
Savoring experiences without clinging to them.
Practicing gratitude through daily journaling.
Taking risks with self-expression and pursuing dreams.
Expanding my awareness of joy even amid life's challenges.
My astrological chart has also provided insight into my relationship with grief. With Chiron in Gemini in the 5th house, I've learned that death challenges me to find ways to communicate and express my sorrow. This placement highlights how difficult it can be to articulate emotions when words feel inadequate.
In the 5th house, I find healing through creativity—whether writing, art, or reconnecting to joy, even amid grief. I have always felt drawn to learning about life and death and exploring different philosophies and spiritual practices. This placement teaches me to embrace loss by expressing myself, seeking understanding, and finding healing through intellect and creativity.
The Spiritual Education We All Need
I'll leave you with a passage that resonates with me from The Science of Self-Realization by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. When asked by a London Times reporter whether spirituality should be part of everyone's education, he responded:
"People should first be taught what they are. Are they their bodies, or something else? That is the beginning of education. Now everyone is educated to think he is his body. Because someone accidentally gets an American body, he thinks, 'I am an American.' This is just like thinking 'I am a red shirt' just because you are wearing a red shirt. You are not a red shirt; you are a human being. Similarly, this body is like a shirt or coat over the real person—the spirit soul. If we recognize ourselves simply by our bodily 'shirt' or 'coat,' then we have no spiritual education."
My uncle's passing reinforced this fundamental truth: we are not our bodies. And while impermanence grief still visits me, it now brings not just sadness but also a profound appreciation for the temporary gift of now.
Your words resonate so deeply .. thank you for sharing your gift :-)
(( ❤️ ))