When she died people told me that she had lived a long life, and that her death was to be expected. I guess these types of comments were meant to be comforting. They weren't. They just pissed me off.
Most days I still cry when I think about her. There has been very little anyone has been able to do to make me "feel better" about her death. Even now as I type this, I still cry.
I want to do another blog post about faith/religion/spirituality, so I won't go into it at this time.
She had a Catholic funeral (I was raised Catholic.). It was beautiful and she would have loved it.
But what spiritual comfort I have felt since her death I felt while reading the Tibetan book of the Dead. I would like to share part of it here: