The Bardo...

The Bardo is a Tibetan Buddhist concept for an "intermediate state" or "gap" between life stages, most famously the transitional period between death and rebirth, described in The Tibetan Book of the Dead (Bardo Thödol). 

There are six bardos:    

Bardo of This Life: The natural state of living; 

Bardo of Meditation: The state during deep meditative practice;

Bardo of Dream: The experience of dreaming;

Bardo of Dying: The process of the body and mind dissolving;

Bardo of Dharmata (Clear Light): The experience of fundamental reality after death;

Bardo of Existence: The journey toward a new birth (sometimes called the Bardo of Becoming).

My dad is moving towards the Bardo of death.  He is talking to people who aren’t there, he is grasping at things that linger in the air that only he can see, he is whispering to himself or perhaps others that are manifest in his mind, but not visible or perceptible to us.  He is mostly in a sleep state with strange and sometimes agitated punctures.  He does not appear to be in pain, which is good, which is all we can ask for right now.

It is an odd thing to witness someone leaving this life and entering the gap between life and death.  I can feel the ties that bind him here, gently releasing him with every breath.  I can see the tethers to this world, threadbare and worn, letting go.  I can see he is doing important work to prepare for what is on the other side.  Strange that he now likely has a more clear indication even in his diminished capacity than we do with clearer minds.  

Death provides its own clarity.  And it is different from rational, logical thought.  I am sure that I do not understand it.  I am sure that I cannot comprehend it.  So much less life I would have to have in order to know what he is learning currently.

I awoke this morning in a mad scramble to look at my phone to see if I slept through any calls from the facility.  I keep forgetting to turn on my ringer, which doesn’t work even when I turn it on half the time.  But I still wake up each day, this morning at 2:30 am, panicked that I missed an important call.  I am not so anxious that I miss his passing, I am accepting that he will go when it is his time to go and my attendance is not required.  But more panicked that I would leave my mom to deal with this on her own.  She is doing as well as can be expected...but I do not want her to have to shoulder any of this solo.  It is quite literally the least thing I can do to just be present.

So I am watching him leave, enter the Bardo of death.  That strange and mystical space between life and death, death and rebirth.  I wonder what it looks like to him.  He doesn’t seem freaked out or scared, or even irritated which is odd because he was one of the most easily irritated people I have known in my life.  Of course, dementia rounded that out a bit, softened it and gave him the ability to accept what is, for which, we are all incredibly grateful.  I am so glad he wasn’t combative and hostile.  So very happy that he was given the grace of acceptance and solemnity in these declining years.  I cannot imagine, no actually I can because I have witnessed other families whose loved one is hard to manage and is cruel or mean.  So I am immensely grateful for this other road to get to the place we all must go...

The space between love and life and absence and death.  How long shall we all linger here?  How will he transition?  Will I be able to tell if it is a peaceful passage?  Will I gain any insight into what this is really like for him?  Or shall I just sit and watch his body break down, one unit and organ at a time until it is no longer a hospitable host for living?  Where is his mind in all of this?  Has he gained clarity that dementia has obscured for the past 14 years?  Or is he walking through the Bardo in some sort of fugue state that is addled with confusion and unintelligible thinking?

I will never know so I just decide.  I decide that I am going to imagine he is peaceful and clear.  I wish this for him. I hope it is a beautiful transition.  I pray he is given all he needs to leave this life and know he was loved, he was appreciated and he was enjoyed.  He did good work here.  He helped a lot of people get sober.  He was one of the best newcomer sponsors I have ever known in my time sober.  He could take a man, barely functioning and get him into action, better than anyone I have ever seen before or since.  I know he saved lives.  I know he loved these men, and a couple women, with all that he had.

I do not feel jealous of the time he gave to them, instead grateful he finally had an outlet and purpose that seemed so illusive to him once upon a time.  I remember one Christmas before he got sober, he asked us all to get him gifts that made him laugh. It was the saddest request ever.  And we all complied, though I do not remember what we purchased or created.  I guess all of us somewhat stymied by the request itself, knowing that we could do little to provide true joy to someone who was drinking themselves to death.  I mean, we tried, but, as I remember it, it was kind of a required epic failure in his descent into his recovery bottom.  We all had to fail him, in order for him to become so miserable, that he would be willing to do something different.

So we all sit in a bardo of our own making, a hang time between what is now and what is next.  None of us being sure what to do while here except be present, witness this time in between as critical and vital and required.  As we say in recovery, it is hell in hallway. And it has felt hellish a couple of times. But mostly it feels peaceful because when you are in transition, there isn’t a lot to do when you are not sure of your destination. And even if you know where you are going to end up, sometimes it takes awhile to figure out what, if anything, you need to bring with you to wherever you might be headed next...

All of us hanging right above and around the bardo of death, of clear light and of existence.  Each of us, in our own way, processing what this means to us and how it is changing us in ways we cannot possibly fathom with today’s knowledge.  Life moves forward as death delays.  And for now, at least, I find this gap, welcome and comforting.  There will come a time, likely soon, where there will be a lot to do, but for now, it is just time to witness, to make comfortable and to be present for whatever comes next...

Again, still...