Sharing the experience of his wife’s death two years previously, editor and writer Christopher Bamford speaks of what he has learned. “I have come to understand that life is praise and lamentation, and that these two are very close, perhaps one—and that they are transformative.”

His essay, “In the Presence of Death,” comes first in “The Best Spiritual Writing 2000,” the latest edition in a series begun two years ago. Philip Zaleski, editor of this series, deserves credit for having assembled in this paperback an excellent collection that can nourish the spiritual life of its readers.

Bamford describes the last month of his wife Tadea’s life as a time when everyone else still prayed for her to be healed while she resigned herself to approaching death. Tadea had to show patience with the people who visited because they were not prepared to hear her talk about dying. “So she just sat quietly,” her husband says, “waiting for us to understand that all was as it should be.”

Looking back, what he remembers vividly is the way time and space changed. “Everything slowed down,” he explains, “expanded, became qualititative, rather than quantitative.” Time became like a dream, with every day spread out, and every moment containing other moments, each of them a gift of grace.

Tadea herself did not allow any sad faces among visitors; she wanted them to appreciate the reality of human life, even though hers was coming to an end. As a result, the atmosphere was filled with prayer and devotion, a kind of informal liturgy that brought everyone into a subtle song of praise.

The author summarizes what this environment can produce: “When life is lived in the continuous presence of death, which is the presence of God, it is as if every moment becomes an offering, a communication, received from and given to the spiritual world.”

In Tadea’s last three days, family members and friends could feel a change. She had entered into the final stage of her struggle. At this time, a priest came to baptize and confirm her as she prepared for departure. “There was a heightened sense of being, an exceptional clarity of perception, an interiority to space and silence I had not suspected before,” recalls her husband.

Soon she died, after  opening her eyes wide and leaning forward as if she was entering her new place. Those in the house felt a sense of  “inbetweenness,” as if suspended between heaven and earth. The presence of the spirit was palpable and made people feel themselves in a kind of trance.

In the succeeding days of mourning and burial, Christopher Bamford felt the gift continuing. He reflects: “It is as if only death reveals the meaning of life. As if in death the whole of life—its task, its meaning, its fruit, above all, its mystery—is laid bare.” He also was given new insight into the meaning of life: “Life was not about getting and doing, but about creating virtue’s in one’s soul.”

This bereaved husband felt deep gratitude for having been part of Tadea’s life. Through her love and devotion, along with her reaching for other virtues, she had taught him about spirituality. At the same time, he remained conscious of his need for forgiveness because of the ways in which he had failed her. Later he became convinced that she was forgiving him.

The author had still to struggle in coming to three realizations. First, though the dead have gone, they are still present to the world—they belong to everyone.

Second, heaven became a “powerful reality” for him. He imagined himself there with Tadea as they floated down a river of liquid light.

Thirdly, the author came to realize that from then on he would have to live in three different spheres and yet make them one. He had to find a middle way between heaven and earth whereby the death of his spouse could become “a bridge to new experience.”

This third discovery actually happened. “I found myself loving the world more than I ever had,” concludes Bamford. He has ultimately learned that “nothing of our experience is lost or worthless in the eyes of life.”

Bamford offers much more than can be summarized here. But perhaps this much will serve to stir reflection about spirituality coming from the so often agonizing experience of a loved one’s death.

Richard Griffin