Wednesday 18 May 2005
8:56 a.m.

Before I go to sleep each night, I do a healing meditation for Mom. Usually it involves green and white light, but last night I did one that came to me from a “green” witch -- someone who works with the spirits of nature. He had conceived this meditation with Mom in mind, imbuing it with his “medicine.” I used this meditation a lot just after Mom was diagnosed with terminal kidney cancer, but sporadically lately.

It’s a simple one. I visualize Mom and I standing naked in one of my favourite places, the beach on a lake near our home town. As we look out over the sparkling water, the air becomes heavy and moist, droplets form, and rain begins to fall. It washes over our heads, down our bodies, scouring away all strain and worry, all illness and sorrow. When we are clean, the rain stops and I wrap Mom in a fluffy, sky-blue blanket.

Last night, before I could wrap her in the blanket, a white horse came out of the sky and landed on the beach beside us. Behind the horse was a beautiful white carriage; upon its seat was the blue blanket. I wrapped it around Mom, helped her into the carriage, and kissed her as wings spread out from the horse’s back and he launched himself, the carriage and Mom into the sky. She would be borne through the stars and clouds this night, on a wondrous voyage across the heavens.

decorative features in the hospice garden