Short Title: Goodbye
Long Title: Experiencing the Divine in the Mystery of Death
I started painting as an exercise in spiritual contemplation. It was my intention to copy classic icons, but before I got started I had the inspiration for this painting.
A month prior to my decision to paint, I became a volunteer for a local hospice service, delivering communion to six people on a weekly basis. I was particularly drawn to the philosophy behind hospice – that the end of life was part of a normal process when the dying resolve their final life issues with the people closest to them, enabling a peaceful transition into the forevermore.
Twenty-two years ago, my mother had died suddenly, but paradoxically with unnecessary suffering and cruel, futile attempts to prolong her life while I was left, solitary, in a waiting room longing to hold her hand and tell her that I loved her. Her unnecessary pain and suffering and my sense of failure as a daughter haunted me for years.
One of the women to whom I brought communion was 100 years old. Eleanor lived in an assisted living complex and was usually in bed or sitting in a chair in her room when I arrived each week. Then, one week I found her sitting outside in the sunshine. 
I had just returned from a vacation in Greece, and we sat companionably side by side as I showed her my pictures and explained about the location and what action was taking place. Her favorite was the picture of a group of stray dogs on Corfu who, with much barking and self importance, led one of the bands in a saints’ day parade.
The following week I returned with communion and I looked hopefully at the seating area in front of the building to see if Eleanor was out in the sunshine again. Not there. I went to her room and knocked on the door. Her aide kept the door locked so there was usually a small delay until the door opened. This time there was no sound behind the door. I knocked on the door a second time and waited. No answer. Well, I thought, perhaps she is in one of the public rooms of the complex and went to look for her.
Eleanor was not anywhere around, so I went back to her room and knocked on her door a third time. A staff member came out of the room next door and asked:
“Who are you looking for?”
I told her Eleanor. “Oh, I’m so sorry. She is not here. She passed away on Monday.”
I left the complex and went to my car, starting the engine. But I could not leave. I put my hands to my face just as the picture shows. I did not feel grief in the ordinary sense, but the sure sense that she had been released into eternal life. I felt enveloped by the divine and knew peace.