On “Death”

IMG_20130301_071657Charles F. Cat and Yard Dawg waiting for Meeko and the right tree.

Due to a few things I have experienced, I am not afraid of the day I die. I know enough to know that when my body dies, my energy returns to creation because that is what we are. Energy, and as such, we will always return to our source, which will always create.

Having said that, death still tends to hurt my heart. Even over an animal. He would have been 19 next month. He lived the last ten years of his life, dependent on insulin. He lived the first few months of his life in such a traumatic hell that when he first came, he hid under a bed for six weeks. It took my mother four months to bond with him. He was still under a few years when I met him. He was beautiful and large, like Maine Coones are. My goal was to get him to not run, and let me pet him. It took 4 years.

Mom taught me to never approach his face from above to pet him, to “come in from behind.” Once we established that, bathroom love wasn’t far behind. Bathroom love was him following you into the bathroom, and letting you pet him as he wound around your ankles. If you got the scritches going and the motor on, he would then jump on the toilet seat and demand full body pets.

Soon, I learned the honor of causing him to “head-butt” things as you pet him. Or cross-paw Sphinx look and how he would roll his head into the ground on a really good love session. I saw the beauty of a very wounded animal, work through his trauma. My mother loved him like he needed loving, and taught those around him, how to love him in the manner he needed for his soul.  He, in his magnificence of simply being, taught us much and the last half of his life, he came out of his shell. He let his voice be heard and gone was his meek squeak.

I was at work yesterday and got a text from mom. We had been talking about it being time to let go because he was at the point of no quality right around the corner. He was all bone, he couldn’t see, he wouldn’t shit in his box, more like couldn’t. The text read, “If you are home around 6, would you go with Meeko and me? I figure you would want to say good-bye. I has a sad.”

*break to Irony*

Last night, I was part of a very peaceful and dignified departure. It was sad, and it hurt my heart to have to go through it, but at the same time, I was thinking how lucky he is, he is returning to his original source and surely, that is a state of true, unconditional love.

I fell asleep last night, knowing my mom was very sad, but that Meeko, was right with the Universe. At 5:30 ish, I awoke to a horrific sound. The Jack Russel terrier upstairs was wailing. I mean heart stopping screaming that ripped me from my peaceful slumber and into protective, panic mode. Her name is Willow, and she is old as well. 14 years old. The last 5 or 6 years, Willow has had seizures, been on meds, has had bladder issues, and became aggressive from the steroids they put her on. Lately, she walks herself into corner, or where objects meet and gets stuck. She will brush her body against the wall, and as soon as she makes contact, she becomes magnetized and “stuck”.

This morning, I was hearing her worst seizure ever. I could hear her person, through the floorboards, freaking out. She called mom who went up and sat with Willow, while Pat got her girlfriend to work. I made mom some coffee and took it up. I walked in and Willow was in my mothers arms, having another violent seizure. The look on my mother’s face was awful. Willow was panting, shaking, and her tongue was blue. Slowly, she stopped and lay, drained in my mother’s arms.

As I got to the end of the paragraph above with my mother saying, “…I has a sad.”, mom walked in and said Pat was home and they were going now to take Willow in. I stopped writing, went up, walked in, kissed the top of Pat’s head, patted Willow’s head and thanked her for being a good friend. I then broke down at the sadness and pain in the room. I got them out the door came back down and cried a little bit, made the *note* above and took a moment to breathe and remember two amazing animals.

Grateful to have learned big lessons, from tiny animals.

 

08, March 2013 I did not mention the fact that when we put Meeko “down”, we were both in the room, but I did not stay for the moment of death. Mom had only paid for cremation, but could not afford the box and return of the ashes to add to Charlie and Yard Dawgs, as pictured above. Her plan has been to plant them with a tree. I knew it was hurting my mom to not give Meeko the same “dignity and respect” she was once financially able to show her feline family.

As Meeko lay stretched out like Maine Coones stretch, face in her palms, mom bent over him crying, I could not let his ashes go away from her and I said, “Fuck it, I’ll be right back”.  They had already given him the sedative, and I had been right there thanking him for 19 years of living. I saw him slip to a state of almost not knowing.

As I stood out front paying for the cedar box and return of ashes, the gave him the second shot and in hindsight, I am kind of glad I didn’t watch them stop life. I don’t know how I am going to eat next month, but I feel good that I did something that was truly from the heart. I believe the most powerful gifts and actions in life are those that come from the heart.

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About iwentcrazy

I am very, very, very average. And very, very, very lucky.

Posted on March 1, 2013, in Relationships, Source, Universe and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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