When a tragic car accident took the life of our twenty-one year old daughter, Maia, we began a journey that has been paradoxically the most heart-wrenching and spiritually uplifting period of our lives. Learning to Dance in the Rain chronicles the first year of this journey. Through pain and despair to renewed energy and spiritual discovery, we write about the many ways in which we are finding strength and inspiration to carry on our lives. With help from family and friends, a variety of religious and spiritual traditions, encounters with the natural world, and, most profoundly, continued connection with our beloved daughter, we are learning that death is as much a beginning as it is an end and that one person's smile can make a significant and positive difference in the world. This published version of Learning to Dance in the Rain is derived from an earlier manuscript distributed to family and friends prior to the first anniversary of Maia's death. The response was more positive than we had expected and we soon realized that sharing our experiences in this way was helping others, as well as ourselves, continue to heal and grow. Additionally, many people suggested that our story could benefit others beyond our small community and encouraged us to "share it with the world". After much deliberation and research, and an unshakeable belief that this is what Maia would want us to do, we took their advice. It is our greatest hope that the personal experiences we describe about our daughter and the path we are forging since her passing will help others find strength and inspiration to face whatever storms may come their way and live their lives with greater meaning and purpose.

Learning to Dance in the Rain

A True Story About Life Beyond DeathBy Lori McDermott Brian McDermott

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2011 Lori Berger McDermott & Brian G. McDermott
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-3713-9

Contents

Preface..........................................................ixAcknowledgements.................................................xiPrologue.........................................................xiiiDays 1-7.........................................................1A New Chapter Begins.............................................23Epilogue.........................................................83About the Authors................................................85Appendices.......................................................87? Excerpts from Maia's Memorial Service.....................89? Maia's Song...............................................99Bibliography.....................................................101

Chapter One

Days 1-7

Day 1

Faced with the inescapable reality of Maia's death, there was nothing else to do but go home. In the early dawn hours, we arrived back at the house and found ourselves on the threshold of a most unwelcome new world, a world we were utterly unprepared for and still unwilling to accept. Knowing there was no turning back, and with great sadness and heaviness of heart, we stepped over that threshold together.

Other families faced with a similar crisis might draw upon the beliefs and rituals of their religious affiliations and practices. What to do, when to do it, how to be and feel and think would be all laid out for them to follow. The immeasurable pain and grief would still exist, but there would be a clear path to guide them and a community of like-minded supporters to help them through the days ahead.

We, on the other hand, had no predetermined rituals or religious practices to lead us through such uncharted waters. Although born into Jewish and Christian families, we never fully embraced either tradition and when our own children were born, we tried adapting the teachings from many different religions to create a tradition of our own. The result was an eclectic, loosely defined spiritual belief system supported by two basic assumptions: the universe has both physical and non-physical attributes, and humans are both physical and spiritual beings. Great ideas that served us well in normal times, but lacking enough substance to be of immediate help during a crisis like this.

With daylight just barely breaking, we decided to delay calling the one person we knew could provide us with the spiritual and practical guidance now needed, our good friend Loni. While we waited, we gathered lots of photos of Maia, lit candles, and focused our thoughts on her. We didn't really know what to say or do, but we knew it was absolutely essential that we at least do something. Although her physical body had died, we believed her spiritual essence had not and that this part of her still needed us, perhaps more now than ever before. Working hard to put aside our own sense of loss and pain, and the myriad questions spinning through our heads, we sat together in silence, sending out thoughts of love and strength to our daughter, hoping with all our hearts that this would make a difference.

Phone calls were made, the news spread, and friends began to gather. One of our closest friends drove into Boston to pick up our son, Maia's only sibling and the only family member within easy traveling distance. As our numbers grew, we became a community of mourners, acutely aware of the need to support one another, draw strength from one another, and reach out to Maia in whatever ways we could. Representing a wide variety of religious backgrounds and spiritual beliefs, we were united in one mission: unconditional love and support for Maia and her transition from this life to whatever comes next.

One final detail worth noting: Earlier in the day as we were tidying the house for the visitors we knew would stop by, Lori picked up one of the many books lying around, Six-Word Memoirs. Opening it at random, she read in amazement the following quote: "The car accident changed my life." An extraordinary coincidence for sure, and the first of many we would experience in the days and months to come.

Day 2

We slept poorly that night, tossing and turning fitfully, waking up often, first at 2:20, exactly 24 hours after the reported time of Maia's death, then at 4, and 5, until finally we gave up on any more sleep and got out of bed.

The house was eerily quiet and strangely peaceful. Some of the candles from the day before were still lit so we sat silently in their warm glow and held each other close. Never before had we felt so much sadness and despair. And of course there were regrets. Although we still didn't know what caused Maia's crash, we wondered whether we could have said or done something that would have led to a very different outcome.

Admittedly, none of this self-admonishment would change the reality at hand. What was done could not be undone, and we had enough sense about us to know that this was not the time to focus on regrets. We had much more important work to do and we didn't yet know how or what this would entail.

With some time to spare before the day's wave of visitors would begin arriving, we turned on the computers to check email. Though others might expect email messages to be a poor way to exchange sentiments during such a time as this, we found them to be otherwise and were very comforted by the many that had begun to arrive. One of the most consoling and encouraging notes came from an uncle in California who wrote: "I hope that Maia will make her presence felt to you, or to someone (we don't know the logic of such events), and that you will be able to feel something of her life and destiny on the other side of death." Consoling, encouraging, and prophetic.

The day progressed with a flurry of activity. Many friends stopped by to offer whatever support they could and to be with us during this most difficult of times. Food, drinks, and all the required table settings seemed to appear out of nowhere, as did beautiful flower arrangements, candles, and plants. Our good friend Loni, who graciously accepted the role of spiritual leader and seemed quite comfortable with our rather non-traditional spiritual/religious inclinations, worked hard to provide us with a variety of resources to help us forge our own path through the days to come.

After taking her advice to secure the services of a local funeral director, Loni guided us in planning brief evening ceremonies at the house, an adaptation of the Jewish tradition of sitting shiva. At first we were somewhat reluctant to receive guests at night because in many ways we just wanted to be alone. But soon it became apparent that these gatherings were not primarily for us or for the many people who mourned Maia's death with us. They were most importantly for Maia. "Where a person lived, there does his spirit continue to dwell," a belief common to many religious and spiritual traditions, became our belief and one of our strongest guiding principles. Although we hadn't yet felt her presence in any tangible way, we knew deep inside that she was still with us. We might not be able to see or feel or hear her, but we could love her and be here for her, and that's what mattered most.

Day 3

It is often said that bad news travels on wings and a thousand leagues away, and so it was with this bad news. By Monday it seemed like the whole world knew of Maia's...