I thought she was dead. Apparently I was wrong. Included in a large email group, an acquaintance from years ago (let’s call her “Greta”) sent a message that was very much from someone who is alive.
This isn’t the first time that I’ve received email from people I never expected to hear from again; on two previous occasions, friends whom I’ve known quite well have sent me invitations to be Facebook friends long after I knew those friends to be gone. The difference was that those people were, in fact, deceased. Also, I had smiled when I received their emails because I wouldn’t have put it past either of those two to find a way to get my attention from the other side of the consciousness veil.
“The reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” Mark Twain once quipped. I was glad to learn that the report stored in my memory about Greta was, similar to Twain’s, erroneous.
Feeling celebratory, I thought about sending Greta a congratulatory note. After some reflection, however, I decided against it. What do you say in such a situation? Hey there! I thought you were dead! So glad to hear that you aren’t. How’s life been treating you over these many years? Obviously, that’s not a very considerate communication, especially to someone who wasn’t a close friend. Besides, who knows why I “remembered” that Greta had died. Suppose she had, in fact, been seriously ill – or still was? Or suppose I’d confused someone else’s death with hers? I decided it was better to just feel warmed by the news that Greta was still with us and that she seemed well.
It’s not often that we have such opportunities. Most of the time, the situation is quite the opposite: we learn that someone has died and the information we receive is accurate. Sadly, as one gets older, not everyone else does. We lose each other too quickly.
I’d like to pretend that my belief system is sufficiently strong such that death doesn’t unnerve me. I cannot. Vital spiritual traditions and their texts teach that there is continuation after human life. It also feels like there should be. But absent the type of direct confirmation perhaps only possible through a relinquishment of this form and its useful sensory capabilities, there is no absolute way of knowing. I am left only with my experience, faith, and hopefulness.
That’s why it’s good to know that people like Greta – people I thought were gone – are alive. I don’t need to see or talk with her to understand that she is still with us. Her voice, through a single communication, is enough.
Despite the rumors that may waft on time’s winds, there is rebirth, renewal.