I’m not a country music fan. But there is one hauntingly beautiful song I first heard years ago. The title was “Bringing Mary Home.”
The song tells the story of a man driving down a lonely country road on a dark and stormy night. A little girl suddenly shows up in his headlights. He stops and she gets in the back seat. She explains, “My name is Mary. Please won’t you take me home?”
He did take her home. But when they arrived at her house, she had vanished. As Mary’s mother explained to the kind man, Mary died in a car crash 13 years ago. The man was the 13th person to bring Mary home that night.
Recently I heard a follow-up version of the song. In it, the kind man was on his deathbed. As he slowly slipped away, he saw a little girl. She said, “My name is Mary. I’ve come to take you home.”
We’ve often said you never lose those you love. And that is true, whether in life or what you call “death.”
You see, there is no death—at least not in the way humans perceive it. There is, obviously, a transition, but not an end. “Death” is no different from you getting up out of your chair and walking into the next room. It is that gentle, that easy.
Often, your loved ones who have already “died” will come to greet you, and take you home—to the Home you never truly left.
You see, friends, you live forever. Obviously, you move from one experience to another. That is true in life and death.
You are never alone. Your loved ones are always with you. We, in the world of Spirit, are always with you. We are with you in a particularly powerful way when you decide (as you all do) it is time to get up out of your chair and walk into the next room.
“Death” is that easy. We are all with you in life. And in death, as you are going Home.
Copyright © 2021 by John Cali and Berna Copray
Edited by Berna Copray
In this video, hospice caregivers share their patients’ experiences as they move from life to “death.”
Please share your thoughts with us in the comments below.
This is so true. My mom passed in August and my sisters and I were with her. She had not been coherent for a couple days and we knew it was happening soon. Because of blepharospasms, both eyes were closed. Then her one eye opened and she was focused on someone we couldn’t see. Anytime I’ve been with someone close to passing, they have spoken to or about someone who has passed. It gives me a very peaceful feeling.
Thanks very much, Mary, for sharing your beautiful story. We truly have nothing to fear in death—or in life.