Death of a Son

"I'd like to share with all of you the huge depth of gratitude and great privilege I feel to be able to do the latihan.."

Sixteen months ago my 24 year old son died from an asthma attack. He'd always had asthma, but never experienced a severe attack before.

He was living a fast lifestyle, drinking too much, smoking cigarettes and marijuana, we'd had words about it. It was affecting his work and his health. He'd maintain that he was all right- "Don't worry about me, Mum". He always tried to tell me the truth, he had few secrets.

He died while on holiday; they'd had a day fishing, and were cooking the fish when he had his attack and died.

When he was a young boy, I recall him and his younger brother on the lawn pretending to do Latihan. They'd arrived home from school earlier than expected and seen through the windows, our Women's group finishing their latihan. And there they both were, arms heavenwards, pulling faces, making angelic sounds, and collapsing with laughter; that's what they considered the latihan, I guess, a bit of a joke. But in some strange way they also respected it.

The night before his funeral I went to latihan and naturally hoped for comfort. My latihan was strong and reverent, giving praise to God. Then I received my son was on the floor curled up at my feet, in an agony of fear. My latihan was strong and unfaltering and in another language I found myself telling him off. He was saying "I'm sorry mum, I'm really, really, sorry". Ignoring his sobbing and distraught state, I was wagging my finger at him and saying "Get up, come on get up, stop this nonsense, stop feeling sorry for yourself.".

It was then I became aware of a few others in the latihan also saying to him "Get up" and their latihan was also directed to him. Gradually after much coaxing and love, my son became aware of his state and slowly stood. Our latihan was still coaxing and raising him higher and higher. He gradually became aware that he had to go higher and go on, but he was most reluctant to leave into the unknown. He tentatively rose, but kept looking back at me saying he was scared. I conveyed that I would look after him and guide him. Eventually he became free of his lower state and began to experience the love of God.

He thanked me from way above for helping him and that he now knew what the latihan really was. We felt bonded in the deep knowing of each other, for the first time. A great blessing came over me, as we still encouraged him higher and higher to the light. He kept looking back at me, uncertain, and all of us still encouraging in latihan - "It's fine go on, let go, let go". Eventually he looked back no more, the Latihan was filled with a glorious blessing.

I felt so grateful that through the latihan I could actually raise my son's consciousness after his death and help him on his journey. I hate to think of his state without it. Also the privilege to share with my Subud sisters this most inner and intimate experience fills me with joy and humility.

During the funeral and since, I've felt strongly guided. I organised his funeral with a strength and purpose not normally mine. The funeral was in our garden, flowers everywhere, it felt somehow like a wedding. It was a beautiful day. His girlfriend brought his favourite music to play, a woman vocalist. Many of her songs were about a young man’s life and death, ("Wash all the tears away, down by the river where the willow grows, wash all the tears away"). Every one of these songs had something to do with his life and death. So I feel on some level, he knew his death was near. The night before I'd received to hand out willow fronds at his funeral.

Thirty days after he died, his presence filled my bedroom as I awoke and he said "I'm off now Mum". I felt sadness, but a joy also, he had made it. He also appeared to his father to say goodbye. I have since heard in many religions, the belief that after 30 days the person's spirit moves on totally, after making sure their loved ones are OK.

So my grief has been guided by the latihan, free of social expectation and pain; as I surrender I know I am looked after and healed, and an understanding envelops me in my surrender. My son is often in my latihan and for some reason his name has changed.

As an end to my story, there is another : I realise that he actually introduced me to Subud. When he was eight years old, he bought home a friend from school, and of course later I met his parents, They introduced me to the spiritual food I had been searching for.

The realisation that he had introduced me in this way to Subud, meant that we had helped each other. If there is no other life purpose for me this is enough and I am forever grateful.

[Left out all the names]