The first funeral I attended was my mother’s, in 1986, and I hated that one so much that I vowed to myself that the next funeral I would attend would be my own. I couldn’t bear the grief. I didn’t want anything to do with death. It terrified me. Who would it take from me next? The only way I knew to cope was to avoid the topic altogether.
About five years later, I had an experience I couldn’t explain for a long time. Now I realize that it was an awakening but at the time it just felt like a crisis. After five years of avoiding my grief, the reality of my mortality downloaded into my consciousness in a way that is impossible to describe with words.
At first, it was terrifying. I was afraid to go to sleep, lest my heart stop beating, and I never wake up again. I watched my roommates go about their days as usual and saw clearly that all they were doing was distracting themselves from the fact that they were going to die one day. Going to work, shopping, watching a movie… it all seemed utterly meaningless all of a sudden.
“We’re all just going to die in the end!” I tried to get them to see what I was seeing, but they couldn’t. After about two weeks of this, I moved into a deep and desperate search for anything that could make sense of this human experience. If all of that was mere distraction, why was I here? What could I do with my time on earth that would feel meaningful?
I found an answer to this question at the time. It was to have children. That felt like it would be more than just a distraction from my inevitable death. It didn’t happen for another eight years but raising my beautiful son still feels hugely fulfilling. Since then, I’ve found many more meaningful ways to live my life. Teaching yoga and meditation for years was one way, writing my book was another. In fact, now that I live a Spirit-led life, everything I do feels meaningful.
Leading the grief group here in Clearwater is one of those things. Being with people who have experienced loss is a gift to me, because I get to have real, meaningful conversations. The rest of the world goes on with their busy lives of distraction but in that little room for 90 minutes once a month, we take off the masks and hold space for one another.
That’s why I like funerals. For a brief period, all the distractions are put on hold and people are forced to acknowledge the reality of death. There is a feeling of community and connection as food, music and rituals are shared. Conversations are more authentic, and healing happens in mysterious ways. Ironically, although death is what brings us together at funerals, it is in those moments that I feel most alive.
Editor’s note: Sita Rebizant is an author living in Clearwater, B.C. Rebizant hopes to help others with her book, Safe, Loved and Free, which details how she used the law of attraction, meditation and other methods to change her life for the better.
