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Saying Goodbye

Saying Goodbye

Today, I said goodbye to my dog companion of 12 years. What can I say… she was the best dog. I know, a lot of people feel they have the best dog, and I think they do. She was the best dog for our family. So gentle with my kids, so loving, so trusting, so delightful.

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Our brand new dog – 2006

When we first got her, my husband was on the night-shift and though I’d gotten a kitten – my daughter quickly took him as her own. So, I said I wanted a dog. We went online and saw a picture of her – legs out in front of her, mouth hanging open happily… she looked like a dog that wasn’t in jail, but was simply on a trip. I went in and didn’t immediately recognize her… while all the other dogs were barking, whining, pacing, and pawing… she sat right down by the gate of her kennel – her back to me, and tossed her head over her shoulder to look at me. ‘Pet me.’ That was love at first sight.

We brought her home on Valentine’s Day, consequently, one day before she was to be put to sleep… one day before my birthday. I call that kismet. The people that had adopted her as a puppy had returned her at 11 months old saying she has seizures. She’d been at the pound for six days – they kill on the seventh. I was ready to buy whatever medicines she might need. I told her she’d never go back there. She had a forever home.

This old girl and I… walks together, hikes together, disc golf together. Nary a seizure in sight. She loved going places with us, loved just being in the same room with us if we weren’t on the go… truly, and completely, a dog that fit exactly our predilections for some days exercise, some days cake. She was always game… unless water was involved. Though she was part lab, water was a no-go.

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Pepsi’s Final Visit to “The Hill.” 4/21/2017

We knew she was getting up there in age – little aches and pains, slow to get up with arthritic hips. We gave her glucosamine (which seemed to help a lot) and tried to be certain she got out at least to smell the roses. On her final wellness exam six months ago, I asked the doctor when I would know. He said, “With a dog like this… it will be when she just can’t get up anymore.”

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Pepsi and Pixel – the cat who loved her, too – 2016.

True to his prognosis… it just got harder and harder for her. She would trip on her own feet, she took a couple falls that splayed her legs out in all directions, and eventually – we were having to lift her back end to help her get up. When she started refusing food – and being a lab mix, well… she’d eaten crayons before and left rainbow poop in the yard – we knew the end was coming. We plied her with everything from cheap Gravy Train to expensive dehydrated turkey – rib bones with meat on them to chicken backs fresh from the butcher… eventually, she turned up her nose at it all. We knew.

I took her on a walk and we sat in the grass and she looked at me. My dog and I had shared many looks, but this one was different. I could see it on her face, in her eyes, that she loved me but was so very tired. I know there are people who consider it anthropomorphism – but anyone who has ever had a dog and shared a bond with it knows. There is nothing like seeing into the soul of a dog. Your kindred spirit. That look, two days ago, was the one that let me know I – personally – had to start letting go.

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Pepsi’s Final Sponge Bath

Our Pepsi got to lay out in the grass. She got copious cuddles. She got a sponge bath, a mani-pedi, brushing galore. Kisses, hugs… the whole nine yards of all the love we could give her, and she drank it up.

Today, I could see it on her face. ‘I’m ready.’ She was just so tired, so achy. We got her in the car, picked up our teens, and headed to the vet. She loved going there, too, so this trip was not at all a stress for her. As soon as the doctor saw her, he said, “She definitely looks beat. I support this decision 100 percent.” He liked her, too. Pepsi was a champ at getting the vet’s office to hand out half a bowl of treats. These guys would love on her and let her clean their faces. She definitely had a way of making dog people glow.

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Pepsi gets ready to go on a hike in 2008.

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They made the injection as I sat behind her. She grew drowsy and looked around for me for a split second. I told her I was right behind her… and her head dropped back into my arms. That is how I said goodbye to my most special girl. I told her we’d keep a look out for her and in that moment, in an ending that would make the best of Hollywood movies, she passed away in peace.

We’d been warned she might take an involuntary breath. Warned she might release her bowels. Warned about all those ugly things that death can be. But none of that happened. She dropped her head in my arms and took her last breath. To see her get to transition so gently, so dignified… I was privileged to be her human mom and companion.

I bawled simply because I’d been holding it in to let her pass without worry. This girl was so in tune with me that often, when I’d cry, she’d whimper. Her final days had me happy in her presence. Then, once she’d left behind her shell, I just wept. My husband was there, as were my teens – all of the people she’d loved for her life and loved her back.

It took me about 40 minutes to be ready to leave. The thing was, as I told my husband, I felt like she was still there. Not her body, but her spirit. Right in the room with us. As we drove home, I still felt her presence. Even as I sit here, she’s with me.

I can’t tell anyone how to make this decision or when, but I know for our old girl – we did it all right… all the way from start to finish. Knowing when to say goodbye before she was blind, deaf, completely lame, or using the bathroom where she lay… she still had all her dignity in tact, and – from one actor to my dog actor – died like a beautiful swooning diva. She always was a silly girl.

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“Silly Dog” She’d lay like this and wiggle around. If she did it in front of the couch, she’d shoot herself across the floor by kicking off. Then she’d wag her tail and out would loll that tongue!

I told her as she lay there in my arms to come back to us. I know right now I’m not ready for another dog, and I don’t think her spirit is quite ready to be a new one… but I am a firm believer that nothing ever ends and we’re always coming back again. I do believe that when I’m ready, she will be too, and all that will remain is for the two of us to simply find one another all over again.

Pepsi Rainbow

Our daily message board for today.

 

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Posted by on April 21, 2017 in Experiences, Musings, Spirituality

 

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Heaven in Seconds…

Heaven in Seconds…

Have you ever wondered what happens when you die? This post won’t be about food or religion, but something that I ponder from time to time. Some feel you go to heaven (or the equivalent in their religion), some feel you are reincarnated, some feel you hang out as a ghost doing ethereal things until you decide you’re done. But I have to state, for all the speculation, it’s all coming from the side of the living.

The honest, hard, cold fact is – we don’t know what happens when we die because once you’re dead – you can’t come back to let anyone else know. Sure, there are “near death” experiences, people who have “technically” died and been resuscitated, but those people were still alive. They didn’t endure cellular death and body breakdown, nor absolute brain death. Their bodies were still ready for a continuity of life.

Doctors have figured out that often, if you cool the body, you slow that process of death – the one that you don’t come back from, when your cells decide to die. I’ve read about it, there’s a certain point where your cells are so damaged, there is no return. That is why you can’t just die and be frozen, then be returned to life. Currently, we have no way to reverse that point when your body betrays your spirit. That is death.

So with that as my definition, I don’t believe the people who have come back as reliable bearers of what it’s like to be dead. After all, they never truly were. If they were, they’d be in a box under the ground. Not that their experience isn’t valuable or valid – I am definitely not discounting what they endured, I’m just saying – it comes from a living mind – even when it seems that person is not.

With brain death… those are people who don’t come back – their brain is gone, there is no captain to steer the vessel. You can do all the tests you wish – cold water in the ears, pin pricks on the soles of feet, swabs on corneas – no reaction. Once your brain stops working complete, it doesn’t matter how alive the rest of you is. You… what you know as you… has flown on to greener pastures.

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But are there greener pastures? I’ve been put under anesthetic for two surgeries now. Do you know what I remember? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I remember getting groggy as I was wheeled into the operating room. I remember hearing Tchaikovsky – the Nutcracker Suite – and laughing to myself. I remember saying, “Tchaikovsky!” and then waking up. Maybe that doesn’t prove anything, but maybe it’s a reliable indicator of what is to come.

Please, don’t get discouraged while reading this. I just need to explain how I am coming to the point, the idea, that I’m about to make. You see, I thought about that darkness of surgery. Then I thought about how it is that when I’m dreaming, when I’ve fallen back to sleep for the five minutes after my alarm has gone off and I’ve hit snooze, that I can have an entire experience that lasted for hours in my mind. Minutes in real life that are hours in my brain.

So I have a theory – it may be right, it may be wrong. It comes from someone who has seen ghosts (I’ll share some of those experiences below, which I can’t explain). Someone who believes there is life in everything because the vibrations of atoms and molecules are energy and that means even rocks have life, though not consciousness.

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Alex Grey – “Creativity”

My theory is that we experience our heavens and hells in seconds. From the point that you stop breathing until the point that your cells betray you – be that minutes or moments – you experience your life end. You might go to heaven and see all the relatives you’ve lost, you might walk the world, you might become a new person, you might burn in fire, you might become an angel, you might blow over the land as wind, become a star, travel the entire universe, or crawl in an insect’s body. But then, you die – and like the anesthetic that turns the world to black, you sleep eternally.

Honestly, I’m okay with that – if my theory is correct. Sure, it may mean I don’t live on forever, but if I’m right with myself at that last moment, my dying mind will give me a glorious ending. In those moments, I may live hundreds of years more. I may agree to enter darkness after those hundreds of years because I would like to finally sleep. Either way, I think how we are to others and ourselves allows our minds to create our final end. So long as we have a beautiful end… isn’t that all we ALL want? (Except those of you who want to live forever… 😀 )

I mentioned above that I’ve had paranormal experiences. I can’t account for those in my theory. And I’m not talking about looking for them on some ghost tour, or trying to conjure up spirits in seance – I’m talking about going about my business and being confronted with something that isn’t there. Some examples:

  1. My mother died when I was eight years old. I won’t go into how crushing that is right now, but I have only, just now, after thirty years, started to be okay with it. Of course as a child I thought I saw her at the foot of my bed, I can’t tell you whether that was true or not, but I can say that many a time when I was alone in my house after school, watching television, I’d hear footsteps. One of the times I heard the footsteps walking in my father’s room and grabbed a broom handle, ready to do battle. (Which honestly is comical – I was about as big as that broom handle.) I got upstairs and there was absolutely no one. Not in the closet, not under the bed. I checked the rest of the house when it dawned on me that I was hearing something that I shouldn’t have. I walked to my aunt’s house – a mile away.
  2. Coming up the stairs at my old house to go to bed one night, I hit the landing and looked up. In that house, from the landing, you could look up into the hallway and see my bedroom door and my father’s on the other side. Sitting on the edge of my dad’s bed was a greenish figure who had it’s head in it’s hands. It slowly looked over at me. I went back downstairs.
  3. Sobbing my eyes out when I was about 15 years old. I was cursing God, cursing the universe, cursing my mother for leaving me behind. (My life was one filled with abuse after her death – a story for another time.) I was crying so hard into my pillow I could barely breathe – there are times sorrow is so deep… so bitter… anyway… I hated everything at that moment including myself. As I wept, I felt a hand on my back, rubbing gently. I honestly thought my Dad had come into the room without me knowing it and was comforting me. I looked up and no one was there.
  4. Filming a short film at the old State Penitentiary here in New Mexico, sitehooded-figure of one of the worst prison riots in history. (There is a book called the Devil’s Butcher Shop… chilling.) We were filming in the medical wing, where I naively thought nothing had happened (I found out after that, indeed, several men had OD’s there). I wasn’t bothered by being there, I made peace and was respectful of the history and the prisoners who suffered there. At the end of the medical wing is a room with a window that looks out toward the new State Penn. I was all the way opposite from it and saw my friend standing at the window. So I start down the long wing calling his name, rankled that he wasn’t responding or turning around. I jogged the entire corridor as he turned and walked farther into the room where I couldn’t see him. When I got there, not only was it not Brian, no one was there. I heard my name and turned around to see Brian all the way back where I’d started out. He’d heard me shouting and come to find out what I’d wanted. And that figure was so dark as to have me believe it was solid, in silhouette from the daylight outside.
  5. Right before my surgery for my gallbladder removal, I was thinking about the worry on my husband’s face. I could do under and that be all, so goodbyes are crucial for that “just in case” scenario. Nothing over dramatic, but ‘I love you’ is a must. I was being a trooper, strong for him, when I felt what could only be described as a pair of arms encircle me from behind – like someone was standing behind me and hugging me. Calm swept over me. Of course, no one could fit behind the bed but the wall – no one was there… but I knew I’d be alright and I went calmly into my surgery.

There are many more instances in my life, but those are standouts. Those were moments that I was not thinking about ghosts, death, afterlife – just moments where I was going about my business or my grief or my apprehension and the ghosts/spirits came to me. I can’t tell you how that fits into the theory. I could say that regardless, those experiences are still filtered through my own mind and could have been manufactured by me. Psychosomatic experiences are real for those feeling them. Those visions sure were solid enough for me to react to them.

I can’t say I have any answers. I have a ton of theories and this is just one – if we are just fractals and the universe trying to understand itself, then who knows where we’re off to next or how our energy patterns will react with the whole. Regardless, the fact remains, the only way I’m ever going to know, is when that time finally comes for me and I go, “So this is what it is…” and turn around to tell the living… and can’t.

 

For what I *hope* to have happen – well, being able to travel the universe and go anywhere I wish would be amazing, but if our wispy souls are bound by laws of physics and gravity like the winds, I’ll settle for being a guardian angel. I like a good challenge. If I have to come back as someone new, I hope that I get to come into a family full of love to experience a childhood that I didn’t get to have before. I hope that my tenacity comes with me and that maybe I drive my new self to cure cancer. 😀 And, if after all is said and done, it truly is just darkness and eternal dreamless sleep – I just hope that I’ve done enough in this life to make a difference for someone else – be it helping them through a tough time, or simply giving them food for thought.

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Kenny Callicutt – “Light from the Beginning of Time”

Until next time.

 
 

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Dreaming of Death

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Dali gets it…

Given the recent string of celebrity deaths, especially high profile celebrities like Alan Rickman and David Bowie, death has been a companion in my day-to-day doings. I walk to the mailbox and wonder what it would be like to have a heart attack and face-plant on the road. I wonder what it would be like if someone broke into my house and shot me point blank.

I wonder what it would be like if I got the news I had cancer and knew my days were going to be much more limited. I wonder if I should be worried at all because fate will take me when fate takes me and worrying is such a tiny human preoccupation. (Which is one of those things that give our life its blessing and curse – we are doomed to remember so much, yet blessed to remember at all). I grant you, it’s macabre. I can’t help it, I chalk it up to my imaginative writer brain exploring things from the deep well inside of each thing I explore.

At any rate, I went to bed last night feeling very good. My stomach aches were non-existent, my anxiety was nil, I really felt good in my mind, and my body. So it was interesting when I had a dream of going to a huge fair and getting on a ride that boasted it was three-times bigger than any other. It was an incredible version of a scrambler (combined with other things to make it one of the most unique experiences my brain has concocted yet). It could hold three-hundred people. Massive gears in the walls that spun massive wheels that ran on tracks. Me, my husband, my sister, my children… we all got on and had a fantastic ride. No one else was in line! We decided to go again.

This ride was housed in an enormous building, rides whatever the weather, you know? So we are going around again, lifted high into the sky, when my sister shouts to me, ‘Look over at that wheel, what is it doing?’ Sure enough, as I look over at the wheel gliding along its track, it is headed straight toward another wheel meant to elevate the riders (I know, wheels everywhere, tracks, confusing… bear with me). Obviously they collide.

Now here is where the dream goes from glee, to horror. The whole ride shudders. It groans aloud as the arms attached to the wheels buckle, then snap. It feels like slow motion as we spin in a way unintended and I feel the vibrations through my seat as the ride collapses onto the ground. Screams fill the air, I see the ground rushing up, and like magic… incredible magic, I breathe in slowly and say to myself, ‘Well, this is it.’

I hit the ground knowing my death has arrived. It goes black, then darker black and utter silence as the rest of the ride topples over me – I feel it crush me, though painlessly as I’ve accepted this fate. At this point, I think I actually stopped breathing in my sleep, because I can say… the totality of this darkness, this silence, this stillness that washed over me in the darkness was… much like when you go in to get an operation and they put you under… you’re simply gone.

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Beautiful “Dreamtime Sisters” by Colleen Wallace Nungari. (www.aboriginal store)

Then… a miracle. I begin to see the red of my eyelids. I literally think to myself, ‘I must be being born again,’ and I woke. There I was in my room, in my comfortable bed with heaps of blankets, having had what I can only say is something akin to a shamanic experience where my mind let me die to bring me back. Spiritual, because what I took from it is something I heard a woman say on a documentary as she took the drugs to end her life, ‘Oh, that wasn’t so hard… this isn’t hard at all…’

I don’t know what my end will be, when it will be, how it will be, where it will be… but I feel calmer this day. I was given a gift by my incredible brain, a teaching: when you accept something that seems unacceptable, when you stop fighting the flow of this mighty river of life, magic and miracles are sure to follow.

I think I needed that reminder, (and with luck, death will be exactly what I imagined it to be), because I’ve been fighting my nature and hearing that voice of gloom telling me, “You can’t.” Truth be told, I can. I just need to walk through the doors and create with all I’ve got. It’s all any of us can do, and everything we should do.

 
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Posted by on January 16, 2016 in Musings, Spirituality

 

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