A Sacred Farewell: Walking My Mother Home

My mother, Catherine Marie Rondenet, passed away on January 20, in her home. She was 90 years old. She died on her youngest daughter’s birthday. 

The day was both a farewell and a birthday celebration.

Growing up, our mom always made our favorite meal on our birthdays. In her honor, my oldest brother prepared spaghetti—my sister’s favorite dish—as we came together to honor both our mother’s passing and my sister’s birthday. 

Walking my mother home was overwhelming, yet in moments of stillness, when I closed my eyes and listened, I could hear her speaking to me—heart to heart.

Sensing the time was near, I felt the need to reach out to the family, hoping we could all gather—her seven children and many grandchildren—by her side.

My nephew flew in from Arizona, filling the room with beautiful guitar music and song, joined by his dad, my sister, and my niece. Together, they created a sacred space of love and presence. One by one, her children arrived, surrounding her in a circle of love.

On her wall hung David Whyte's poem "Sweet Darkness," which seemed to capture everything my mother stood for:

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone,
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your home
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

This was so in line with my mother’s work. For over twenty years, my mother practiced as a Jungian Analyst, helping others navigate their inner worlds with compassion and wisdom. In 2004, she co-founded The C.G. Jung Center in Evanston, a space dedicated to public programs inspired by Jung's work and accessible, sliding-scale therapy services. Her work was about helping people meet their darkness and see it as a gift. 

My mom, like me, believed in the deep work of the unconscious shadow. She explored it through analysis; I explore it through breathwork. Both paths lead to the same truth—that breath is our connection to the divine, a sacred gift that bridges body and spirit. 

If approached with mindfulness and reverence, breathwork can be a way to deepen spiritual awareness, calm the mind, and align oneself with divine presence—similar to prayer and meditation. While the Bible doesn’t explicitly teach breathwork techniques, it frequently connects breath with life, spirit, and divine presence.

From Genesis 2:7, "Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." This divine breath remains our constant connection to the sacred.

In those final moments with my mother, I witnessed the profound struggle between body and spirit, the ultimate surrender. Death is the deepest darkness, but even there, light persists. For the living, our task is to hold that light, especially in challenging times. We must do our inner work, find our inner peace, and stay aligned with harmony.

Right now, life is calling us to face uncomfortable realities. We look around and see messengers triggering us, making us afraid, trying to weaken us. We may feel ourselves spiraling into stress and uncertainty. 

We may ask: 

What is dying right now?

What wants to be birthed?

The gift is always found when we return to our breath.

As my mom took her last breath, a playlist of all her favorite music played softly in the background. Ironically, the final song playing in that moment was The Rose. As the last lines filled the room, surrounded by all of her children, she took her final breath:

“Just remember in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snow

Lies the seed that with the sun’s love

In the spring becomes the rose.”

I am honored to carry forward her legacy, helping others embrace their shadow with unconditional love and discover the beauty of who they truly are.