DevaTree Blog

Last Breath

Posted By Carolyn on Apr 29, 2013

When my father died many years ago I was in tune with the meaning of breath. He took his last breath sitting at the kitchen table in the house where I grew up as if it was his first, quietly exhaling as he let go. A few days later grief stricken and lost I awoke from a restless sleep to the sound of a breath, loud and clear, comforting and loving, reminding me that I would always be connected in the realm of spirit to this dear teacher, my father. A few months after my father’s death, one of my friends wrote me a deeply personal poem, which so beautifully described my father and the impact of grief on the breath. I leave you with this poem as a reminder to breathe deeply into your day today.

for carolyn by Heather Birrell

when your father died he took my tongue
and i stood before you breathless

for weeks i had trouble breathing

gentle unassuming as breath
was your father
a pocket of wind in a sail
a burden lifted from a tightening chest

not stalwart or strong
but supportive and ever-present
as air

he would no more desert you
than would the oxygen
of sleepy nighttime inhalations

how could i not believe then

a bedside
visit                                                     outside
of death?

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