Last night, 1st December, my dear, darling husband left his body peacefully at 8.19pm. I say left his body because it became very obvious that there was no longer an inhabitant in that body at that time. One minute he was there, the next minute, gone. And that is death. That moment.
River had earlier quoted his partner Amanda (whom he had tended while she had leukaemia) as saying ‘Death takes a moment. Until then, I am living’. And it is so true.
My dear, sweet man struggled in the last few days of being in the body. I have to say ‘the’ body instead of ‘his’ body because it sounds weird now to refer to him as having a body when it was so clear that the body was just the packaging for his spirit. Who Philip is was simply flowing through that particular form for that particular time. Now he is elsewhere but very close. Can I feel him? I feel immensely loved, immensely. So, yes, I think I can say I feel him.
In fact, I could not look at what had been him in that familiar, dear form for much longer after he had died. River had reminded me that in Buddhism they speak of the spirit floating upwards in to the room, and when I turned my eyes towards the ceiling, it felt so much better – to address my love where he really was, and not in the discarded body.
I will write more about his journey of the last few days, which has been a remarkable one on many levels (what else might I have expected from such a remarkable man?), but I just wanted to share this, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for your love and support for him and for me.
This photo was taken in October, when our friends Barbara and Michael were visiting from Los Angeles.