A mighty storm rages around Bealtaine Cottage as I write.
The morning is filled with roars and whoops of wind as it smashes in from the Atlantic Ocean, enveloping the land with angry energy.
The trees slow it down, calming and sifting its robust anger.
I sit by the table near the window on the north-side, occasionally glancing out when the tempest noise rises.
I have watched her quiet dignity hold sway over the comings and goings of support staff, family and friends.
My Mother greets her final journey safe within the home of my brother, her first-born child.
Her bedroom, where she grows smaller, like a womb, comfortable and quiet.
During this time, my computer has gone on the blink and I have been unable to write and post as I need to…
I need to write… and having a fully functioning computer, that I can use in the warmth of the little lodge, where I over-winter by the wood-burning stove, will be comfort itself.
This will be the beginning of a portable Bealtaine Cottage too, as I will be able to write and post wherever I go.
I am grateful for that!
Thanks and blessings to you, my generous friends!
This is where some of her lovely energy will be found, for me, in the coming days.
I found my father here after he passed and came to understand that energy does not disappear…we simply have to re-focus our eyes and listen with our hearts to recognize it. (Mum and Dad, on a visit to Bealtaine about five years ago. I took them to the top of Kilronan Mountain!)
Living at Bealtaine for almost ten years now, I have come to understand that belief.
Death is not the end, but a Rite of Passage.
Blessings and thanks to you all XXX
(My Mother passed away this morning. I spent yesterday with her.)