It's been a while. I just have to say that for the living, death is an opportunity.

I have yet to deal with death and not watch people come through with the positivity needed.

A few weeks ago I was in a reading and I said “For the living, death is an opportunity.” And then I immediately said “Wait. Lemme write that down.”

This week on my podcast we interview Heather Hogan. She’s a death doula, life coach and documentary filmmaker. After the interview, when the taping was over, Charles and I took a deep breath and said “Wow.” It’s a powerful interview talking about her work with death.

Heather is powerfully gentle. She shows fearlessness as calm, kind and focused. Heather and her production company are working on a docu-series called Dying Differently. Her understanding of what is available to us as we talk about leaving the earth, how to support our loved ones during this time and the freedom to live without the fear is humbling. It’s one of my favorite episodes.

So what does it mean that death is an opportunity?

When I’ve been in readings, since day one, death has always come through as 1. the passing of the energy/soul/being AND 2. the beginning of opportunity for the living. It doesn’t matter how close you were to the one passing. If you are affected by the passing emotionally, there is space that comes afterwards that is full of opportunity, correction and growth.

Not to say that it is not also a time of great pain and sadness. Every loss is felt by the cells in our body. Humans are a network just like we find in trees or elephants but we insist we are individuals to the point of being unaffected by what happens to others we’ve never met. I’ve never read it to be that way. We are given loss and opportunity at the same time if we are connected to the person who passed in any way.

In a medical reading grief shows up in the cells. I believe that’s why the deep grieving process is so physical. Our cellular make up has to get used to the absence of the body of the person who has passed on. We may know spiritually they are around but the physical absence is what gives us the physical pain.

Many years ago I owned a restaurant in NYC’s West Village. After an extended time of both my grandmother and her sister, my great aunt, being quite ill, my aunt passed away. It was a time of great pain. My Aunt Anna was quite loved and she represented another maternal figure in my life. A young woman, Kennda, that worked in my restaurant gave me her condolences and said, “You should probably prepare to lose your grandmother as well. In many African cultures, one spirit will call for another.”

Writing this now, I’m sure it could have sounded unkind. Honestly, at that moment it did not. I knew her words to be 100% true. I have remembered that interaction to this day as clear as if it happened this morning. That moment was another step in understanding what much of what I experience in my current line of work. We’re not in touch, this all happened well over 15 years ago, but I thank Kennda for that moment often. Weeks later, my grandmother passed. The day before she left us, in my waking moments I heard my Aunt Anna’s voice, “When she’s with me, I will show you diamonds sparkle.”

The following day as we walked out of the hospital room after we said our physical good bye’s to my grandmother’s body, I looked down at my hand and saw her diamond ring that I wore with my wedding ring literally sparkle. It glistened like a cartoon moment. I knew them to be together.

Eight months later after miscarriages, a resolution to not have children, at a ridiculous age, we were surprised with the news that I was pregnant. I heard that same voice say to me, “Agostina” when my then husband asked me what our child’s name would be as we looked at the sonogram image of her. That child would insist at 1 year old to be called Tina, my grandmother’s name when she could barely put a sentence together. She would be taller than the rest of the women in my family at over 5’10'“, just like my grandmother. She would have the drive to ride horses just like her, too. For the record, we are not an equestian family. Her temperament and dedication to what she loved would mirror her as well. For the living, death is an opportunity.