The breath of life

I helped my father die this year.
We lived more together in those last five days,
than ever we had in my whole life.

I helped him die,
and watched life gently leave him until he had said goodbye and made
his peace.

Then we were ready,
the final breath was summoned
between us,
and we held it for that last second
in our hands
then it held us,
filled us,
full
enough so you could leave
and I could live. T
he Breath of Life
coming to me in your dying.

So I know now
there is no death
but life only
and we come through each death.

Death tracing each life,
Living tracing each death.

Áine Hutchinson