Death is like going to sleep

My Cassy's hopeful perception of death.

Written by Connie Small, December 12 2000

I often wondered why you seemed to need, even enjoy, sleeping so much. You could sleep 20 out of 24 hours. It started when you were just a baby, weeks old and you slept through the night for the first time. I was breast feeding and for a baby to go seven hours between feedings was a long time. I remember my fear when I awoke and realized you hadn't wakened to nurse. I remember of frantically reaching for you, terrified at what I may find. You stretched like a lazy cat, looking quizzically at me as if to ask why I had awakened you. Finally, you awoke enough to nurse. But I remember of feeling as though I had intruded upon your special sleep.

You seemed to outgrow your need for so much sleep as you went through your childhood. As you turned into an adolescent though, you started sleeping more and more. It seemed that no matter how much sleep you got, it was never enough. During the week, you would come home after school and more likely than not, you would take a nap. After homework, dinner, bath and a bit of t.v., you were ready to go to bed. I remember on many occasions, I had to tell friends who called for you, that you were asleep.

I thought when you were out on your own, you might finally outgrow your need for so much sleep. But even then, you still seemed to love sleeping. Many times, I stopped to visit, only to find I had awakened you. It didn't matter what time of the day or night I came over. You could go to sleep no matter what was going on around you. You slept peacefully.

After you died, Jennifer told me that you and Chris had talked about death. I was surprised at what you thought. You wanted to believe that when we sleep, those who have gone before, come back to us. They talk, laugh, love. When we awaken, we don't remember their visit. Or, if we do, we think it was just a dream. This was what you believed, what you hoped, death was like. A place where there was no pain. A place of joy. A place where the living and the dead were together again. They laugh. They play. Both are in a spirit-like world of light and energy. It's no wonder, that you went so gently into that good night.

Come visit me when I sleep, Cassy. I miss you. I want to see you, touch you, hold you again.......even though I won't remember.