Expanding Into Darkness: 1 Year of Grief
It was just over a year ago that I took a last-minute flight to Denver, Colorado to help my Aunt Sophie pass into the next realm. She passed away at her daughter’s house, lying between two of her children as they prayed over her with love and adoration. As the candles blew out and the breeze rushed in, her spirit left her body right before the dawn of a new day.
My Aunt Sophie, my cousin Kelley and I talked nearly every day for the year prior to Sophie’s passing. We enjoyed rich conversations about the meaning of life, health and what it means to live in tune with the rhythms of nature. The lessons that I took away from these conversations and Aunt Sophie’s passing are vast. But the theme that I would like to convey here is that I truly believe beauty is the meaning of life, and that death, although painfully tragic, can be beautiful too.
Beauty before me.
Sophie was a storyteller, and not ironically, her story is full of lessons of healing, living in beauty, discovering magic, and deep connection.
Sophie surrounded herself with beauty. Whether she was swimming in nature, painting murals to bring life to a building, dancing Flamenco or writing love poems, she enjoyed the human experience of connection and creativity through many expressions of beauty. It seemed to me she always wore rose-colored glasses. When she saw beauty in all things, she lived in magic. As odd as it may sound, this relationship to beauty and magic is also the perfect description of Sophie’s Leukemia journey.
Beauty above me.
Aunt Sophie did everything younger than most. She had 4 children by the age of 22, which then allowed her to meet many of her grandchildren before her early death at age 63. After her divorce, she spent 6 months traveling through Mexico and Central America wearing a bright pink burka. She said she wanted to hide in plain sight as a mysterious woman traveling, or something to that effect…
She had many self-proclaimed book tours. These book tours would involve entering a bookstore, removing the main book on display, and placing hers there instead. She endeavored to become a stand-up comedian, so she enrolled in comedy classes in Italy. Comically, she read the brochure wrong and attended clown college instead. She had such a great time that she went back for a 2nd session. She learned that making people laugh in any capacity is a beautiful thing.
Aunt Sophie was diagnosed with CML (Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia) in October 2020. It was shocking. She was so healthy. Immediately, I started talking to an alternative oncologist, since I knew Sophie wouldn’t like the traditional cancer-fighting route, but I quickly realized that was not her path either. She wasn’t going to fight the cancer at all. She planned to love, trust and support her body. To see where it took her.
I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand because it wasn’t what I would have done. However, to ethically practice medicine is to meet the patient, the person, where they are and to make sure they understand the risks and benefits of their choices. Ultimately, as a physician, it’s my job to honor and respect a patient’s decisions. If their goal isn’t to live as long as possible, but to live as beautiful a life as possible, then okay. I will ride the ride with you and see where it goes.
Beauty below me.
Sophie did more work in the healing sphere than anyone I know. She looked darkness straight in the eye. Her path was so aligned with her authenticity that she didn’t adhere to any expectations surrounding her cancer diagnosis, but rather followed a path of radical curiosity.
One time, she did Ayahuasca and mushrooms at her house, alone. She had done Ayahuasca once before, in a group setting, but said that upon taking it, she found herself the most hilarious person in the entire world. She couldn’t stop laughing and proceeded to laugh hysterically for hours. This led to discord in the group as they unsurprisingly found her rather annoying during their deep existential trips.
During the Ayahuasca trip at her house, she connected with a constellation of stars and instantly saw a geometric grid present throughout all time and space. She connected with Christ Consciousness and by sensing it, just for that short period of time, she knew that she wasn’t ever alone. She felt a part of something greater and deemed herself ‘healed!’ I should note here that I believe this to be the same Christ Consciousness that she had been trying to find by listening to Elvis 24 hours a day for a long period of time. Hallelujah!
After her proclamation that she was healed by Ayahuasca, many family members, including me, felt dazed and confused about what her proclamation meant. Did she really cure her leukemia? Well, no…. she did not cure her disease. But it did prompt her to release a lot of past traumas. And the connection that she experienced with the oneness completely changed her resolve and strengthened her conviction. She came into her authenticity of living in beauty at an even stronger level. It was palpable.
CML has two phases - the smoldering state and the blast crises. A blast crisis is where the bone marrow starts hyper producing white blood cells and things start to shut down because they are clogged with all these cells. Typically, life expectancy for someone in a blast crisis without treatment is no more than 3 months. As a result of Sophie not taking the traditional cancer-fighting path, we knew on some level that our time with her was short and any judgment about her lack of treatment drifted away.
Beauty all around me.
Because Sophie was a writer and a poet, she had a special appreciation for the power of language. To tackle the power of word, she instantly changed the CML phrase blast crisis, to “having a blast.” This allowed her to stay open-minded to what the universe and its divine wisdom had in store for her. She looked at cancer through a lens of gratitude, and therefore, she both literally and figuratively had a blast.
On the way home from a cousin’s wedding, Sophie went into her first blast crisis. Her heart raced out of control (approx. 140 bpm) and she ended up in an ER in New Mexico. The doctors tried to convince her to be helicoptered to Denver for life-saving emergency treatment, but she declined. Instead, she checked herself out of the ER and into a hotel with a swimming pool. She swam all afternoon. Her kids came and got her home safe and well. We’re taught in medical school that people don’t typically live through an exacerbated blast crisis but, Aunt Sophie made me wonder…can they when they’re having a blast?
It’s also interesting to note that Aunt Sophie’s CML journey coincided with COVID-19. The global pandemic didn’t stop her for one second. On Christmas Eve of 2021 she got COVID, as well as some type of bacterial pneumonia. When I talked to her on the phone, she didn’t sound good. She had a deep, wet rattling cough. They call pneumonia ‘an old man’s best friend’ for a reason, and I was really worried about her. She took a COVID test that revealed only a ‘faint line’ so she decided that she ‘just had a little COVID.’ I called in some medicine and low and behold, she was better the next morning. Again, Sophie proved to me how amazing the human body really is. Even though she had cancer of the immune system, some simple pharmaceuticals had instantly pulled her from the grips of death back in to life.
Sophie never stopped living life to the fullest. Despite just having COVID and Leukemia, she went to Mexico for 6 weeks to film a movie. She wrote a screenplay called Mexico First in which Melania Trump falls in love with the president of Mexico, but then learns that he has no legs. She gave it her best shot, but Sophie wasn’t able to get her movie made. Again, she took a turn for the worse. My cousins called me and asked what to do. I confirmed that she didn’t want to go to the hospital and tried to figure out of if there was anything I could do over the phone. I didn’t think there was, so I told my cousin to find her a Mayan abdominal massage practitioner and get her a bunch of coconut water. She did those interventions all from a place of love and trust, and again, to my true astonishment, she pulled through again.
Once feeling better, Sophie visited her son, John, in Iowa. Unfortunately, her health took a turn for the worse while there. This time, it quickly became evident that the pain was unmanageable. The plan had always been to go to her daughter Kelley’s house when things got bad. Sophie’s sister came to the rescue and drove her to Kelley’s immediately. We got her on hospice, and she settled into the process of dying.
Meanwhile, in Jackson, I had a full week of patients to see and my toddler to think about. But still, I knew I needed to go to Kelley’s. My husband was confused about why I needed to go. I couldn’t explain it. I just knew I had to be by Sophie’s side. I didn’t particularly want to be my aunt’s doctor, I just wanted to be a caring family member. However, I was the only doctor she could find that would listen to her request of how she wanted to live and die.
When I arrived at Kelley’s house, I felt tired and out of sorts from flying. Sophie was still cognizant and attempted to make small talk. I told her that right after I left home, my son pooped behind the woodstove. Sophie replied, “You know, I’ve done that.” She never missed a joke, even on her death bed. Then, she told us that she was scared her body would heal from this blast crisis too. She was afraid to live at a lower quality of life. She told me that she wanted me to help her get to the train station.
Kelley and I ate dinner. While Kelley cleaned up the kitchen, I went upstairs and cleaned the room where Aunt Sophie rested. I opened the window to bring in a fresh cool breeze. We lit candles and pulled roses from the bouquets. We laid the petals around her. Years ago, Sophie gifted Kelley a pair of owl wings that she had found on our family’s old ranch, McCarty Canyon. We used those wings to smudge her and to call in her guardian angels, spirit guides and ancestors. Sophie told us that there were lots of relatives waiting to greet her. I sat at her feet, cleaning them with warm water. Kelley sat at her head, stroking her hair and face. Kelley anointed her mom with blue lotus oil and massaged her beautiful hands. We sang to her and told her all the things we loved about her. We told her repeatedly how amazing her body was and that it was going to help her on this next transition. The labored, almost haunting breathing pattern she had been experiencing softened. Her face, though still showing that she was on the brink of death, now looked at peace.
After the ceremony, I felt tired. I knew that it was time for me to go. I felt like I had done what I needed to do. I told Kelley that most people die just before dawn, as if maximizing time on earth without greeting a new day. Aunt Sophie did just that, peacefully, surrounded by family. At the end, she did not know fear.
Beauty before me,
Beauty above me,
Beauty below me,
Beauty all around me.
– Aunt Sophie
The grief I experienced since Aunt Sophie’s death brought to my attention the similarity between the beginning and the end of life. With childbirth, the pendulum has swung back to having a more natural, spiritual experience rather than labor being a medical condition in a hospital. The same is true with death. Through my Aunt Sophie’s story, I hope to motivate my community to stay true to what you want for your life and your death and to find the beauty in all things.
