The Separation of Yin and Yang

 The Separation of Yin and Yang. . .

[Originally published April 2011]

I had every intention of blogging on a topic every week and at the very least, once a month.  Well it’s been well over a month, and March came in and out like a lion for me and my family as well.

I can remember sitting in classes learning about Chinese Medicine and all of its wonders. The root of all things Chinese Medicine could be broken down into Yin and Yang, always intertwining as one waxes, the other wanes going on and on until death when Yin and Yang separate and that which exists changes forever.

My maternal grandmother passed away on March 14th, just before the Ides of March (my Uncle said she always told him beware of the Idea of March). She was 92 years young and I am certain that had she lived another 92, I would still feel like I did not have a long enough time with her in my life.

She had a stroke on a Wednesday evening  and my Uncle found her early Thursday morning. It was a stroke doctors termed “massive and dense.”  If by some chance she awoke, she would never be the same.

A mutual decision was made by my family not to intervene. We respected my Grandmother’s wishes and allowed the hospital to admit her into Hospice care at JFK Medical Center. Someone from her family, my family was at her side at all times.  I spent the days with her and had one last “sleep over” with her the Saturday night during her time in the hospital.

There was a part of me that wanted to be there up until the last minute of my grandmother’s life. I had a sense within that I needed to be there and didn’t want to leave. I was so determined to be there until Yin and Yang cycled into each other no more. I wanted every last minute I could with her.

I was not there in the morning when my Grandmother passed. Yin and Yang had already separated and l arrived feeling cheated of time with her because I left the night before to go home to my children. I arrived at the hospital a few hours after her death.  And I realized, surrounded by my family, that in the days leading up to my grandmother’s death, we shared stories of her amazing life and how much we loved her, and I was comforted.

As I watch the flowers emerging from the earth, a sign of the change from Winter to Spring, I am reminded that from death comes life and in each flower I think of my grandmother’s love for gardening and I can begin to find some peace emerging from my sadness. And I am certain that as I prepare and plant flowers for my garden at home and the garden at the office, her spirit will surround and comfort me allowing me to continue on my journey.


Namaste

Stephanie Lipnicki

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