July has been a month full of death. Death of a dog. Death of a grandma. Death of a horse.
To witness the last breath of any living being is to witness the soul leaving the body. I witnessed three integral souls of my life leave their body in the span of a week. One was expected. Two were not.
On each occasion an eagle appeared shortly after, letting me know all is right in the world. Those souls now at peace. It doesn't make it any easier, the loss, the pain, the emptiness, the sadness, the hurt, the anger, the quiet. It is all still there. Simple messages from the heavens let me know that I am not alone. Their soul still riding along with me, keeping watch.
Quietly, patiently, and lovingly ushering a soul from one world to another is something my soul was created to do. I provide strength when strength is needed. I provide compassion when compassion is needed. I provide tender loving care when tender loving care is needed. I provide guidance when guidance is needed. I provide revelations when revelations are needed. I provide the unflappable courage of warriors when the courage of warriors is needed. These gifts have always been present, truly coming to the forefront when necessitated. I am not alone. Every body embodies these qualities and truths.
My grandmother was always on the move, looking ahead, and being dependent on another for every need was the hardest experience she ever had in this life. As she lay in her death bed, understandably friends and acquaintances wanted to come and pay their last respects. Her decline was rapid and fierce, followed by a slow, clinging slide into the next world. A proud, beautiful woman, I protected her dignity. No one wants to be put on display for all to see simply for the livings want to be ingratiated by death. Don't worry, death will come for you and pushing your way past a threshold will not ingratiate you any more than respectfully sitting back offering condolences.
A week before my grandmother's death on the day her sisters drove up from Wyoming for a celebration of life party, my daughter's dog died in her arms. He was the best/worst dog. The best snuggler, lazy house dog but the worst barker and if there was a chance to explore and meet new friends, he was gone. More than once I bailed him out of dog jail. Facebook posts, no matter what town we were in, always reunited him with us, and when my daughter went to college, he seemed to think it was my fault. Going on a hunger strike, moping around, giving me side-eye, and sleeping in her bed and on her blankets, no matter how many times I told him she was at college and someday he would live with her, I could feel his disappointment. He was our first dog and I loved him for his independent spirit and friendly outgoing attitude.
Four days after my grandmother's death, I took the life of my horse. Having a congenital condition beyond anyone's control, I chose to allow him the freedom of death, where his body no longer hindered his free spirit. Winning over $100,000 on the racetrack, he was fast. I sacrificed the last two years away from him knowing that anything I love fades and whithers when I am not near. Being with him would have changed nothing. I still would have taken his life to save his dignity. However, the insufficient care he received at the hands of people who are incapable of communication and adjustment would never have occurred. This, I am unable to forgive.
Two and a half years ago a foundation I thought was solid crumbled beneath my very feet. I found safety and security in earth and water. An otter appeared to me along the riverbank of the Mighty Missouri River, reminding me to slip below the surface when necessary, glide through life effortlessly, make a splash to remind people I am here, and remember that playfulness is not an indication of childlike immaturity.
After my grandmother exhaled her last inhalation, I walked to the top of the mountains that have held me, supported me, and absorbed all the fear, anger, and tears that I cried over the death of my brother, the death of my grandparents, the death of relationships, the death of connections, and screamed releasing the burdens of caretaking and frustration at the fragility of life.
I rush to turmoil and embrace fear with a vengeance. The unknown doesn't scare me. What strikes fear in my heart is the inability to move, to change, to adjust. The river has taught me to always be fluid, flexible, and move around objects with ease. At times it is necessary to be still, other times to rage like a mother. I have been still long enough.
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