When I first heard about ‘death’ as a child, it was described as ‘going to sleep and never waking up’.  I remember being both terrified and unconvinced.  The thought of there being no ‘I’ didn’t make sense at all.  How could ‘I’ not exist, the 8-year-old me wondered?  I reassured myself that, surely, someone would discover a ‘cure’ for this thing called ‘death’ long before my time arrived. 

Little did I realise that Life itself, in its own time, and in its own way, would offer up a healing elixir, a soothing balm, which would provide all the assurances I needed.  And that it would come to me, after decades of striving and searching for answers, when I finally learned to ‘let go’.