by Eve Kelly "I don't want to die," she whispered to me, embarrassed at confessing her secret. "How can I be 92 years old and not be ready to die?" Idella had been living in the nursing home during her last years and had reached a point where she continually conversed with herself to come to a place of reason. Physically, she was worn out, barely supporting herself on her walker with the oversized wheels. Shuffling slowly and painfully across the room on the way to the restroom, she would tell me, "Just wait until you get old, then you'll know." She would say it with compassion, not anger, like many of the other residents.
Idella had been a schoolteacher in her day, and had spent a lifetime teaching senior high school students French and English. Her hair was as white as the frost growing inside my freezer, and her skin bulged in the places where her purple and blue veins webbed together underneath the translucent layer. Her glasses rested atop a nose too long and overgrown to be considered beautiful according to the magazine covers. She would shake as she lowered herself into a chair, finally giving in to gravity and landing, with a plop, on the seat. She then would lean forward and crook her finger at me. "Come closer, so I can hear you," she'd say, "Tell me what you know," and so I did.
As the soul is released in death, our knowing becomes enlightened.
I told Idella how loved she is, and how it's okay that she is fragile and in a place where she needs help to sit, stand, rest, and relieve herself. I told her that after a life of doing, it was time for her to be. She'd shudder, roll her eyes, and tell me she understood, but it was difficult. She said she'd always been a person that kept herself busy, and now that she couldn't, she felt worthless.
We'd talk about a person's worth. Do human beings earn a place in heaven? Is the path clear, no matter what we believe or don't believe? Are we destined for greatness or does an empty abyss await us once we die? Can we ever do anything to lose a place at the Great Table? Are we doomed or released?
Idella wanted to talk about death. She didn't share any stories of a family, and I wondered at this brilliant elderly woman, all alone, who wanted to talk to a total stranger about her own worthiness and whether or not I thought there was life after death. I shared with her that I believe there is much life beyond this incarnation. I believe that as the soul is released in death, our knowing becomes enlightened. This enlightenment allows us to connect with the energy of our choices and lessons in the previous life.
I said that as we leave our bodies, our souls usually ascend to a higher place of light, energy, and love. We are able to see ourselves as the energy that we are after we ascend. In this place of another dimension, we are connected with pure love, the love that created us in the first place. There we shall know no fear, pain, hurt, or angst. There we shall experience acceptance, support, and love. Idella would sigh with relief and exclaim, "I hope you're right!"
Many evenings, I would sit and sketch the residents, draw pictures of what they personally requested or recreate, through art, an experience or feeling that they shared with me. Eventually, I sketched all the residents for which I was an aide, except Idella. An interesting thing happened to Idella.
One evening, she asked me about the "other side," and seemed particularly nervous. She said she was afraid she hadn't been good enough to go to the good place. After I asked her how she would react to a child if that child were afraid and feeling shame, Idella said she would hold the child, rock the child and coo, "It's all right; you are safe and loved." I suggested that she envision her God holding her and saying the same thing. For Idella, this God was Jesus. She then asked me to paint what her going to Jesus would look like, so I did.
The picture (shown above) is of Idella's soul, freed from her aged body, her hair dark, long, and free, her astral body appearing flexible and fluid. She is sailing above the planet, her arms outstretched above her head. She wears a flowing robe made from opalescent fabric as light as air. She glows, and moves with ever-increasing speed toward a great and loving light. The day I showed her the painting, Idella said that she would go to sleep with this image and in the arms of her Jesus.
Idella did sleep that night, the next night, and the following, then passed into the next dimension, into a place of peace and joy. She was 92 in this incarnation, but her soul lives. I learned from Idella to trust my vision and my art of healing.
Eve Kelly is a freelance fine artist, soul intuitive healer, spirit guide portrait artist, Reiki Master, shamanic journey practitioner, and the founder of Guided Affective Imagery Expression™. Eve creates spirit portraits, and can mediate on a person's behalf. Eve lives in West Seattle and can be reached in her studio at (206) 937-7511.
Ascension