A Most Beautiful Ending
The ‘little good things’ in this life and beyond.
Matthew Galgani
My siblings and I have lost both our parents. Both passings were, of course, sad. But neither was dark.
Our parents lived long and full lives. And I have two distinct memories of how they died, both of which I find “beautiful” in their own way.
That is, according to a rudimentary, AI-assisted search for the etymological root of the word “beautiful”, it is derived from bellus or bella, the masculine and feminine versions of handsome, pretty or fine, respectively. Bellus and bella, in turn, are thought to be colloquial versions of bonus (good) in Latin, suggesting them to mean “a little good thing.”
To be sure, few of us look at death as “a little good thing.” But it is inevitable. And I saw hints of goodness and beauty in the way our parents passed.
Beauty to be Found
I was not in town when my father had what turned out to be a fatal accident. He tripped while walking up the driveway he had landscaped decades earlier, hitting his head on the bricks he had laid.
While that sounds as dark to me as it might to you as I write this, there was, ultimately, beauty to be found. As awful as it must have been for my mom to witness, she said when she looked down on our collapsed and unconscious dad, he had what she described as a peaceful, child-like, almost angelic look on his face.
In the middle of a scene no one should have to see, she said his expression gave her much-needed peace of mind. As my mom told that story, we both took solace in the serene look he had on his face as he departed this world.
The Powerful Bond Between Twin Sisters
Some twenty years later, our mom passed. It was not sudden or unexpected, and she was completely lucid and surrounded by her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
That’s one aspect of the “beauty” of her passing.
We got to say our goodbyes in person, on FaceTime, and on the phone. She was not the most technically savvy person, but the fact that modern technology allowed her to see and talk with her brother and her progeny — some thousands of miles away — was a beautiful blessing for her, and for us.
In what feels like the melodramatic ending of a movie, the final “scene” between our mom and her twin sister was truly beautiful.
My aunt was living a couple of hours away when our mom took a sudden turn for the worse. My aunt immediately jumped in the car and headed to the hospital.
Over the next two hours, my siblings and I stood at our quickly fading mom’s bedside, giving her constant updates on how far away her sister was.
“She’s on her way, and will be hear soon, mom.”
“20 more minutes, max.”
“She’s at the hospital, in the lobby just waiting to get a pass to come up.”
Because it was the middle of the night, we had been in contact with the front desk, explaining the situation to make sure they would rush our aunt to our mom’s hospital room without delay.
In what can only be attributed to the powerful bond of twin sisters, our mom hung on and our aunt arrived in time.
The massive relief and unmitigated joy of the two twins as they embraced was something that can’t adequately be expressed in words. But it was viscerally felt by everyone who witnessed it.
No more than a minute or two later, our mom passed.
Other Dimensions
As noted, two decades earlier, our mom had seen that look of total peace on our dad’s face as he passed. Now she had held on just long enough to find her own peace and one last hug with her beloved twin sister.
Some will believe that our mom, and our father before her, discarded their no-longer needed bodies and moved on to heaven or some other dimension. Others will believe no such transition exists.
Believe what you will, but it was both an undeniably sad, but also unquestionably beautiful ending.
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