As Pearl Lay Dying

I've been looking for a book for a few days.   It's called, Now Boarding:  Next Stop Your Remarkable Life, by Kandee G.  Kandee G sent it to me herself; it's autographed and everything.  I've been reading it, planning to use it as a source book for an article I'm working on.  I remember the last time I was using it, and even remember where I set it down.  But it seems to be nowhere in this house.

As I usually do when things around the house come up missing or have been left undone, I asked the cat about it.  Pearl spends all day inside this house, hanging about like cats do.  She knows everything that happens.  She's a cat.  But then I remembered that there is no cat.  Pearl died a few weeks ago, and I sometimes forget that she's no longer here.  She was with me for over 16 years, and I'm not quite accustomed to having to do things without her.



Tonight though, when I realized that I was talking to a ghost, I began to sob.  It made me realize how much I have depended on Pearl over the years to be strong for me, to be my anchor.  She was there when I was lost in the darkness, and was often the only reason I could find to try to find my way back into the light.  We saved each other's lives more than once.  We were soul sisters, and we took care of each other.

I have a friend who is a messenger of the Angel Anael.  Just after Pearl died, I spent some time with Morgana Starr.   After our business was finished, Morgana looked at me and said, "You have a cat with you.  She has gone over to the other side.  She has left you at this time because you no longer need her.  You need to be free to travel, because the next chapter in your life will call you away.  You are being relieved of many of your possessions so that you will be free to follow the call of spirit, unencumbered.  Your cat can help you more, now, from the other side."

OK, that was weird.  But I also knew that Morgana was right.  I've been watching all of my possessions fall away: a job I thought I would have for life, my condo, the beautiful kitchen Keith made for me, all my doodads and whatnots.  I've even been thinning out my books, although more books always seem to find their way into the house.  In fact, Morgana sent me home with about a dozen books that very night.  I've had the sense over the past year that my current situation is very temporary.   I seem to know that I am being prepared for something, and that I am awaiting orders.  And yes, I already knew that Pearl's passing was a part of that readying.  As often happens with psychics, Morgana's words confirmed what I already knew in my heart.

I'm no stranger to death.  As a survivor of what might have been a terminal illness, I have stood eye to eye with death, and we have reached a sort of understanding between us.  As often happens with adversaries, we have developed a mutual respect for each other over the years.  I am no longer afraid of death.  You might even say that death and I are now on very friendly terms.   

For a while, my brother called me the Angel of Death, because every time I came up to visit him, someone would die.  I was there when Eric died, and held Henry's hand when he died.  I was there when the big chocolate lab, Buster, died so dramatically of the same kidney failure that took Pearl.  I seem to have been given the gift of being able to help spirits move through that final transition without fear.  Great.  As gifts go, well ... it's not one I would have picked willingly.  And yet, it seems to be what I do.

So when Pearl got sick, I was ready.  I knew that my job was two-fold:  My first and most important job was to help her not to be afraid.  Death is terrifying because we do not want to give up the life that we are being asked to leave behind, and because we have no idea what we're getting ourselves into by crossing over to the other side.  There is a lot of resistance to death, and as we are learning, resistance is what causes suffering.

My second job was to help her to believe that I would be OK without her.  I knew that she would try to hold on if she thought that I needed her.  I've seen animals stay alive just to please their owners.  Animals are capable of a huge amount of love, and take very seriously their mission of caring for their people.

With Pearl, though, I realized that I also had a third obligation -- to show honor to my closest friend by allowing her the dignity of choosing the time and method of her own passing.  I struggled with this one.  First I had to decide whether or not to take heroic efforts to prolong her life.  Next, I had to decide whether or not to have her euthanized so that she would not have to suffer.  Those decisions were difficult ones, but ultimately I chose to treat my friend as a sister spirit who just happened to be in cat form.  This article by Andrea de Michaelis helped me to decide.   I chose to allow the wisdom of Pearl's body and spirit to control how the situation would play out.  Turns out, that decision took quite a bit of courage to see through to the end.

I came home from a John Maxwell lecture one night, and Pearl was unconscious on the kitchen floor with Keith by her side, in tears because he could not help her.  I picked her up in my arms, and Keith took the picture that you see here.  I held her all night, until her spirit finally left.  I had Keith light candles and incense, and smudge the house with sage so that I could create a sacred space for this important event.  I gave her reiki and sang to her.  I memorized the feel of her body in my arms.  I said goodbye to my friend and sent her, unafraid, on her way.

Then I started to write.  I needed something concrete to focus on, so I wrote down the notes of that lecture I had attended the night before.  I wanted to balance out Pearl's death by creating something new.  When I finished that article I wrote another, then another, and have not yet stopped writing.  The article I wrote on that morning turns out to have become the very first article of mine published in a magazine -- Horizons Magazine, to be specific. 

Ironically, Kandee G is the one who helped me to unblock my writing.  I spoke with her just before Pearl died, and she gave me some practical advice to help me carve time out of my day so that I could write consistently.  I've been putting Kandee's advice into practice.  It feels really good to write every morning.

And even though Pearl may not be here in physical form anymore, she really is still here with me.  My writing is getting ready to lead me into the kind of remarkable life that I've always dreamed of.  I don't know where that life will take me, and a part of me is terrified.  It's in times of uncertainty like this when you really want to have a cat around.  They always seem to know exactly what to do.  So, when I catch myself talking to Pearl, I suppose it's OK to imagine that she hears me.  Maybe it's OK to draw comfort from her, even though she's gone. 

Now, I wonder where that book is?  I have another article to write.