History repeats itself

Tonight I am going to sit at the bedside of a dying person, providing support for his family as they wait for the inevitable.

I am always so honored to be asked to do this, to be permitted to be present during this most private of times.

What is interesting is that I many times will read the obituary of the person, getting to know a little about them after the fact, and I will think, "Oh, I wish I had known this person before."

Last time I drove to a vigil, it was late at night, snowing lightly, with a large, nearly full moon shining through the clouds. The car was quiet and peaceful, and I remembered my great grandmother on my father's side. She was a midwife, and she cured many illnesses with herbs and home remedies, many times going out in the night to assist with the sick and dying. I am sure it was a calling for her, as well, a mission if you will, and I felt a connection to her as a traveled in the silvery light.

And I wished that I had been able to know her then.