A Gift from an Angel

This past week was an exhausting one filled with musical performances and the preparations for such. I know - what is so stressful about that?  Well, nothing, considering one was helping prep my son’s CD release party, which was joyous and forward-looking to the future.  The other delved into the past and an unknown future.  It was more of a soulful stress.  Let me explain.

My friend is now walking the path of her final transition from this life and is at peace about beginning the next, wherever that may be.  She has been a dancer and actress all her life and things such as wakes and funerals are not her forte, not her idea of a grand departure.

So we gave her a going away party, a celebration of her life (a living wake is what she called it) that knocked the socks off most celebrations. It was a night of her favorite music performed by her friends at a nightclub, which was the location of what became her last performance, a soulful essay of her living with the cancer that was now taking her life. I was charged with singing Paul McCartney’s,  “Maybe I’m Amazed” as a tribute from her husband to her.  I wanted it to be perfect, a softer and heartfelt rendition unlike the harder original rock ballad.  Luckily my son is a musical genius and understood my “do it a bit jazzier, slower, with more soulful chords and feel, I want it different, special”.

The club was packed with friends and family, all not quite sure how to react to this odd event, but wanting to see her, probably for the last time and send her off in a bubble of love.  You could feel the energy in the room, which was pure love.  All egos, all anger, resentment, sadness were checked at the door.  She was radiant; the pain erased from her face, her energy up as if someone shot her up with adrenaline.  She danced in her chair as the music moved her off this final path for just a few hours and set her on a picnic blanket, basking in the glow of the evening.

I had never been so nervous to sing this one song to her.  A bit odd, considering I have spent a good part of my life on stages.  I find comfort and excitement and bliss when performing on a stage.  But this was different.  I had never sung to an angel.  Being with someone as they begin their transition out of this present time is a gift.  I have watched as she moves out of her broken body into an ethereal being, an angel.

But there was so much love in the room that night, it transported me and held me, and melodic tones emanated from my heart and filled my body with so much love that it felt like warm honey was flowing out of my mouth.  In my dear friend’s own words, “magical.”

What an amazing celebration of life.  She said the next day it was the most incredible night of her entire life.  In her words, “I couldn’t have scripted my leaving better or with more love.  I’ll have a heavy travel bag filled with love I’m bringing to heaven.  I hope they let me carry it on the “light” train.  I don’t want to part with it.”

Which made me take a look at my own life.  Selfishly, would I be able to fill a room with people who love me so much that they want to celebrate my life along side me in this way?  Have I been good, kind, generous, giving, loving and loyal?  I have been asking my friends these same questions.  It really makes you think about what really is important.  What will people remember you for?  What are the gifts you give?  Are they only things bought and paid for, or are they gifts from your heart? Maya Angelou once said,

“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

I have decided that I, too, want a celebration of life that I can attend before I transition into my next incarnation.  Of course, I am hoping it is many, many years in the making.  In the meantime, I will look to my friend, my angel, for wisdom, food for my heart, and love as if this was the last day of my life, everyday, every hour.  I hope you do too.