Consider this: from birth, we engage in countless acts of letting go. As infants, we let go of the safety of the womb. As children, we release our grasp on our parents’ hands to take our first steps. Each transition, from school to adulthood, from job changes to relationship shifts, teaches us a bit more about releasing and moving forward.

These are not just changes; they are mini rehearsals and opportunities for building the muscle of letting go.

No doubt, it can look really different depending on the circumstance. Sometimes letting go is an act we ourselves initiate. Sometimes we feel neutral about it. And sometimes letting go happens reluctantly and painfully. And yet, it happens. We are not the person we were a day ago, a year ago, a decade ago. We are in constant process of evolution and change.

Why would death be any different?

I like to encourage us to use our life’s experiences as a guide. Every ending we’ve faced, every goodbye we’ve said, and every new beginning we’ve embraced teach us that we are already equipped to face our final moments with grace and presence. These moments of letting go are not just endings but part of a larger, beautiful cycle that defines our existence.

I expect that death—the transition of this incarnation, this physical form—would be no different. 

I have to wonder if it’s nothing more than rekindling a primal memory, recalling a song our soul knows by heart, though our conscious minds might have forgotten the melody.