Knowing

Last night, on New Year’s Eve, 2025, I am flooded with immense gratitude, bigger than life. To honor it, I finally write about something specifically sacred to me. With its intense flame, the essence of the story is burning inside me. Today, ten years ago, my Mama puts her simple paper affairs one more time in order with the assistance of Edeltraut, her trustworthy helper who comes twice a day. It’s New Year’s Eve – Sylvester. I speak to her on the phone, my morning, her evening already, nine hours difference. “Like you, I am not going to do anything, just go to bed early,” I say. She falls asleep and never wakes up again.

That night of hers is my day here. Despite not having heard yet of her death, I seem to know. The irrepressible urge to drive to Point Reyes for a walk on the beach. When two hospice workers drop by bringing confusing news about the service for my husband Bob, I blurt out impatiently: “I need to go, can’t figure this out now.” At the ocean, my feet are carrying me steadily forward, I sing with the waves. Then, two seals start swimming along the shore accompanying me. Raising their heads once in a while, clearly looking and smiling at me. I shout out to them, waving. This goes on for a long time. We are in harmony, moving at the same speed, carried by water and sand for two miles. With exuberance, I keep singing spontaneously made-up love songs to the water dwellers. The grand wave of life is washing through me. Here are my parents together, both telling me, all is in order. Simple and joyful, no thoughts, just tears rolling down my cheeks. Finally, I realize I must let them swim on, and return home. This moment is asking courage of me. I must walk on alone.

The spirit of my Mama, and that of my Papa – who has been gone already for 23 years – emanate pure love and encouragement. All is done. How beautifully it was done! Driving home, I am deeply stirred and peaceful, all at once. I cook dinner for Bob and me. He is very weak, but not in pain. I don’t know it yet, but he will be with me only for another 9 months. Two hours before midnight I go to sleep, bringing the phone to my bedroom cottage on the hill under the big old Live Oaks. It rings at 3 am. Without waiting I say firmly, tenderly: “Yes, I know!” Of course, my lucid self knows it is my sister who is calling. Our Mama died last night, in Weimar, Germany, just about the time I was walking at the beach in California. German time, New Year’s Day, 2016, around noon, Edeltraut finds Mama and notifies my brother and sister, both living three hours away. She looks peaceful, Dinah says. Mama snuck out the best way possible. Ending the year, knowing what she is doing, ready.

Mama had a stroke the year before, and was almost going to heal, but then broke her hip in the hospital. From this she never recovers, she becomes bedridden. Every day I call, reading her Rilke poetry or my own. Twice I fly to Germany, to be with her for three weeks each, despite caring also for my husband. She and I have the unbelievable privilege of deeply expressing our mutual tenderness. Something that was never possible since the time she carried me in her belly. Now, me sixty-two years old, she eight eighty-seven, a grand healing is unfolding during Mama’s last year. Without hesitancy, in-midst of much grief, I become enthusiastically present. Open myself up for this great wave of unknown mother-daughter intimacy. For decades, I prepared myself, and for the possibilities, waited with no expectations – in matters like these there are no guarantees. Only fate and destiny.

 

Communing with Mama, the transcendent knowledge of deep caring arises from my bones. Radiating through every word, every gesture. I still can evoke it easily, like tonight. Immense respect, gratitude, admiration, and love, a star-studded night sky. Reconciliation. Love finally set free from history of abandonment, sorrow, neglect, fear, abuse, jealousy, guilt, we meet in the splendid golden light of metta, pure lovingkindness. Here language fails. For us this realm is more splendid than any idea or concept – however much longed for, or practiced, they might be. After much wounding, suffering, struggle, peace-making, and tentative, yet determined gestures of love on her and my part over the past decades, this is the ultimate year-long gift we are miraculously granted. I so adored her forever, and wanted to be adored by her… Here it is...

More in another entry about the magical experiences with my exceptional Mama in her last year. She has been my toughest teacher. Then great healing. Personally, I know many a daughter who never had the good luck of receiving this cosmic gesture. It humbles me. And gratitude is not a big enough word. In the past decade, this is how I walk into the new year. It only gets stronger. Joy, wonder, and awe, burning in me with light-filled intensity.

 

May we all be granted the big opening of heart