Two weeks ago, just before his 89th birthday, my father died. At three in the morning his sister heard him mutter “Christ!” It wasn’t until the next morning she discovered him on the floor of his bedroom unable to get up. He fell again that afternoon while opening a can of tuna. “Shit!” he moaned. Blood poured from his head.
Death is one of those mysteries that hides behind a hideous surface. It’s universally sad. We consider it a defeat. But as my father lay barely conscious in the hospital, his upper body thin and wasting, his legs swollen three times their size, with a fatty tumor bigger than a cantaloupe in his belly, death seemed more friend than enemy. The final week my father was in the hospital, I began to think of him as Christopher Columbus heading off for a New World, the pioneer of our nuclear family, embarking on the greatest adventure of all. Indeed, when he finally passed, it was within hours of the Jupiter Uranus conjunction, that wonderful aspect of discovery and invention. It was trine his Scorpio Ascendant.
I once heard the great astrologer and data collector Lois Rodden discussing death. I was surprised when she said that benefic Jupiter was often involved. Yet why not? From the soul’s point of view, it’s such a gift to move on. Grim Reaper Saturn also takes an interest, and the day my father died, Saturn was marching toward his Libra Sun. But when I put the transits of my father’s death chart around his natal wheel, it was neither Saturn nor Jupiter who vied for my attention. To an astrologer’s eye, the planets will often wink, vibrate, or grow larger to announce that they’re involved. The blinking planets this time were Mercury and Mars. Transiting Mars in Scorpio was conjunct my dad’s natal Mercury (ruler of his 8th house of death); transiting Mercury in Virgo was conjunct his natal Mars (ruler of his Ascendant and the body). These were the psychopomps who arrived at 1:10 pm to escort my father into the other world. He took two gasping breaths and was gone.
Today is his birthday. Happy birthday, Dad. I love you.
Dana – thank you for helping me to see death with different eyes. I will reflect on the losses through the years and try to reframe them with your perspective.
Cathy
Dear Dana, May you father sail into the new world leaving you his precious memory and spirit with you, i give you thanks for sharing something so personal and emotional. May you life be always blessed~
Dear Dana
The past six weeks have fiercely engaged me in a fragmented emotional war after experiencing the archetype Plutonian kidnapping. But today I escaped this subterranean hell, soothingly washed away by the undercurrent of the gentle sensitivity expressed in your touching eulogy. A little girl’s love for her revered Dad is one of our most precious gifts, a gift we sometimes secretly guard and protect, never willing to share with any other. May you forever feel the beauty.
Peace to you & your family, Dana. I am a new visitor to your site; your open spirit & inspired words are a rare treat these days. With aging parents & even myself, your imagery of death as a pioneering adventure is simply breathtaking. Thank you.
Dana:
I haven’t looked at your blog in awhile and today I happened to pull it up. I would like to add my thank you to the resonance of “thank yous” for your candid sharing and beautiful imagery. And also to add to the condolences, but as you know, now your relationship with your father simply takes on a new aspect, it doesn’t end by any means.
I just remembered this song from a dream I had about a year before my mom died (that would make it approx. 1994).
Round and round and round we spin
Life is a hoop
It never ends
Through the doorway we call birth
into the darkness here on earth
Round and round and round we spin
Life is a hoop
It never ends
Through the doorway we call death
into the oneness of the light
Round and round and round we spin
I send my sincere condolences on the passing of your father, Dana. The beautiful way you share your intimate- and oft difficult- life experiences helps me understand my own. Thank you.
Dana,
Been thinking about you ALOT lately and finally logged on to your blog – to catch up – only to read about the death of your Father. My heart is filled with love for you and your Dad…it takes me back to the passing of my Mother 7 yrs ago. So bittersweet, traveling beyond this world, on to the next. What a beautiful birthday, Oct. 1st. Blessings and peace…cz***
I’m very sorry to hear that your father died– it sounds like you really loved him. Thank you for, once again, taking me out of my own head to think of others.
i read your blog often. me too, i would like to express my sympathy and thank you for sharing your thoughts.
So sorry to hear of your loss, Dana. Beautifully expressed; thank you for sharing.
Your depth of feeling and the wonderful way you write has made me a regular visiter to this site. I recommend it all the time. I also appreciate your candor and your wide open heart that enables you to bring personal experiences to the your articles and blog posts. So many times your sharing of yourself has been illuminating in a way that straight technical articles cant hold a match to. Thank you giving us this gift and please accept my condolences on the loss of your father. As I read this post all I could think of was “he done good.”
Dear Dana,
You have helped me to understant death this way.
Prayers for you and your father…
with love,
Carolyn
Seeing a loved one who has just died as an adventurer setting off on a new voyage is a beautiful image. My Dad at 82 is very frail some days and I often draw the 3 of Wands card for him. It’s a gate card and in the Rider Waite pack it shows a strong figure at rest, looking out longingly at the sea where ships are setting sail on a new journey. Your analogy remind me of it. I hope your Dad’s birthday is a lovely day filled with memories and celebrations of his long life.
Hamba kahle!
Judy