Anniversaries and Signs

It will be 7 months in 2 days. I've survived the 6-month anniversary. That day seemed like it should be a biggie. The anticipation of it contained more sadness than the day itself. When the day arrived I felt a peace and calm. The next night at church I felt strongly that he was sitting next to me. That comforted and uplifted me.

In the next month there will be 2 more anniversaries. 4 years since he first contacted me and the night we met in person. I'll just wait and see how those days are.

A couple of weeks ago I was at a cottage on Cape Cod. It was a clear night and I could see so many stars. Looking up, I remembered a message from Ken that he no longer needed the motorcycle to go fast. He could go as fast as he wanted at any time. So I asked him to show me how fast he could go. I waited and watched, and then I saw a shooting star. I was thrilled and kept saying 'Thank-you!'

On the way home I glanced to my left and saw a big burst of fireworks. I glanced again, but it was all trees after that and I couldn't see anymore. I took that as another sign, since I had to have looked at that precise moment to see the huge circle of light.

Am I making mere coincidences into signs from the other side? Maybe, but I prefer believing that he is still around and letting me know.

Love Does Indeed Heal Part 2

Last time I wrote about how love from the other side can heal us. In my case, a reading with a medium where such love and gratitude came to me from Ken that I took a big step in the grieving process.

Today I would like to write about the other part of that reading. This is about the love that we feel for and send to our departed loved ones. Years ago when my mother died I remember reading somewhere that when we send love to those on the other side that they feel it and appreciate it. I had sent love to my mother when I thought of her. So when Ken died, when I thought of him (which was many times a day), most times I would think 'I love you and I send you love' and imagine love going from my heart to his.

When I had the reading, Ken communicated how much that had helped his soul. Because he had been in a dark place when he died (he died by suicide), he was still in that dark place when he crossed over. He said he had been inside a shell that he couldn't crack open and that the love that I sent to him helped his light shine out from that shell and eventually it did crack open and his spirit was free. He said he is now radiating out light. He said it is important especially to those who took their own life, because so many of those left behind focus on the pain that the person must have been in to do that, rather than think of them with love.

I felt so humbled by this. How could little me have helped a soul so much? Yet, it wasn't really me, it was the love that is in all of us, in our hearts, and I just sent it along to him as I felt guided to.

So, please send love to those who have passed. It will make a difference - to both of you.

Love Does Indeed Heal

I was going to write a blog post yesterday about how nature heals, after I had spent some quiet time next to a pond, writing while watching geese, ducks and swans. After coming into my home, I realized someone had been there, and had opened my drawers, gone through my things and taken some jewelry.

I'm not a jewelry person, I had nothing valuable except for what was in 2 black velvet boxes - a diamond earring and necklace set from my recently passed boyfriend.

I was heartbroken. Not to mention feeling creeped out. I had innocently left my front door open when I went out to the pond, and was only gone a bit over 2 hours, in the middle of the afternoon. The peace I had soaked up from sitting next to water with a nice breeze evaporated when I saw the 2nd open drawer as I walked through my house.

But today I had the most uplifting, loving reading from a medium. I was told to forget about the jewelry, it was just a thing, a memory of who he was. He wants me to think of him whenever I see a representation of the sun, as now he is filled with light.

The love that was coming from him has healed me, not only from yesterday’s invasion, but also a big chunk of my remaining grief and loss from his untimely death.

Thank-you, Ken. I love you, always will.

More about how love heals coming soon.

How many cats to have?

"Happy is the home with at least one cat" - Italian Proverb

I have one cat, Gracie. She will soon be 17 years old. I just got her in September. Although she had a cat companion for most of her life up until a year before I adopted her, I think it's best for her to be the only cat.

As I've talked about in a few earlier posts, I volunteer at a cat shelter. There are such sweet cats there. Every week I see at least one that I want to take home. In fact, I started volunteering there shortly before Gracie came into my home and I assumed that I would adopt 2 or maybe 3 cats from there.

But before I'd started looking seriously for new cats, Gracie came unexpectedly. Since all of prior my cats have come that way, I took it as a sign that we are meant to be together. She is a senior cat, and I think she likes being the only one here. No other cat to wake her up or compete for the sunny spots. She gets to be the only one to give me orders, too, she must like that.

She is a tortoiseshell cat. Torties, as they are sometimes called, are known to like being the queen of the household (Torties are almost always female - 1 in 3000 of them are male), and Gracie is no exception.

So, Gracie will be my only cat. I don't mind having only one cat. As long as I have at least one, I am happy. I've had between 1 and 5 cats at a time. Five was a lot, but wasn't too many. The house I lived in at the time had lots of sunshine and plenty of good cat napping spots. No two of them got along, that was the interesting thing, especially since three of them were a mother and her two daughters. Five little old lady cats, I used to call the bunch, they were all in their teens. Someone once told me that three was the ideal number of cats to have.

How many cats do you have? How many would you like to have?

Losing Someone

To Ken:  Many loved you. You touched the live of more people and even animals than you know. I hope that now you realize this. You will be sorely missed. You will live on in our hearts.

This post isn't about animals or angels per se, which is mainly what my blog is about. But we are all one, we are all part of the Universe. Loss happens to everyone. It is a little scary to put this out here, but I need to pay tribute to someone who is very special and important to me.

There are so many ways of losing someone. Death is the obvious one. Also breaking up with a romantic partner, or drifting apart from someone over time, like old high school friends. Someone in my life and I had broken up a few times, and now he is gone forever, taken away from us by a sudden, unexpected death. Although I was getting less sure it would work out, hope springs eternal, as they say, love prevails and I know we both cared deeply for each other. It seemed that at some point we would get our acts together and be a couple for a long time to come.

I've lost both parents. My mother at age 78 from strokes. My father at age 89 from gradual heart weakening and failure. Those were not quite unexpected, although you never know the timing, so it was sooner than I expected. Yes, it was a shock, but they were not having the quality of life at the end, so it did not seem a "tragedy". But this is the first time I've experienced a sudden, totally out of the blue, tragic death. Someone not in their later years. A real heart-wrenching shock. One that has taken time to sink in. It's been almost 2 weeks, and I feel like it's just really hitting me now. I've been distracting myself with talking and being with his friends, going through some of his things to keep a few items that meant a lot to me or us, and the mind-numbing distractions of surfing the internet, checking email too much, etc. But now it is sinking in that I really will never see him again. Never see his smile or hear his laugh. I catch myself wondering if that new email notification is an email from him, or the ringing of the phone is him.

On the one hand I do truly believe he is now happy and free, celebrating all his adventures, of which there were many. Most I've only heard a little about, since I met him in mid-life. I believe that before we came to this plane of existence that our souls had agreed to play out this experience. I have felt him close to me a couple of times since he passed, letting me know he is OK. The song 'I Did It My Way' by Frank Sinatra popped into my head while doing dishes the other day. I know it was a message from him. But there is a hole that will take a while to mend. I feel blessed to have had him in my life. I want to celebrate his life and his accomplishments, many that he did not seem to give himself enough credit for. I admired him and looked up to him (figuratively and physically - he was 6' 4" and I'm 5' 2"). But there is a sadness that has to be felt and moved through. Some days I am able to sit with it, feel it and it dissipates. Some days I sit in it for longer, as though I need to feel sad for a while.

True love never dies. After all, love is why we are here, love is all there is when you get right down to it. I love you, Ken, I always will. Thank-you for all that you gave me and taught me. I will never forget you.

I found on YouTube the song My Way by Frank Sinatra that has the lyrics. I cried through the 2nd half of it. It does certainly apply to Ken's life. 

Yes, Ken, you did it Your Way.

Adoption of cats with physical issues

Today I learned that another sweet cat that is not physically perfect was adopted from the Metrowest Humane Society cat shelter. I have had the pleasure of knowing 3 of them briefly during my visits to volunteer there. I help socialize some of the formerly feral cats and also offer them Reiki. There are 2 isolation rooms on the same floor, and cats that are on medications or need special watching or care are usually in them. I met Nilla and Lucky that way. Gus was on the 2nd floor with the adoptable cats in a double cage during his stay. All 3 of these cats were at the shelter for a short time, considering their issues. It is a tribute to the shelter and the care that they give their feline charges how quickly these 3 cats were adopted.


Nilla was hit by a car and left for dead in the road. She needed 2 surgeries and then physical therapy. One of her back legs doesn't bend as much as it would normally, so she hobbles around. But she is adorable, sweet and very friendly. I had the pleasure of giving her some Reiki each time I was there (after she no longer needed her physical therapy and it was OK that I go into her room). I know her new people will love having her in her life.

Lucky was a handsome orange tabby who was missing part of a back leg - from the knee down. He came to the shelter that way, and I'm not sure of his history or how he came to the shelter. He was a very friendly, sweet cat, also, and enjoyed attention and the Reiki I gave him before leaving for the day on my visits. I only got to see him two Wednesdays before he was adopted. I'm sure both he and his new people are very happy to be together.

Gus, the first of these three amazing cats that I met, had a problem with his eyes. It seemed as though it was painful for him to open them. I asked about him and was told he might need to have his eyes removed. I gave him Reiki and hoped for the best. The next week, he wasn't there, he was at the vet for an appointment. The next week, he had had eye surgery, I believe to fix a problem with his inner lids, and also to make his eye openings a little bigger so he could see better. He was on medication and I could see his stitches, but he looked good. I saw him the next week roaming free - while volunteers are there, they will let the adoptable cats that get along with others out of their cages while they are cleaned. He seemed well-adjusted and happy to be out and about. That was the last I saw of him, the next week he was gone, having been adopted over the weekend.

I feel so honored to be able to meet and get to know some of the cats at the shelter. On days when I'm not feeling so great, I push myself to go, as I know as soon as I go through the door of the third floor with my jar chicken baby food in hand, to where the 'forget-me-knots', as the former feral cats are called, are, I feel so much better, just to see some of them come up to me (even if for some of them, it's only because they know I have that jar in my hand). The area has such a wonderful energy to it. Cats are amazing adaptable creatures, and I am proud to say I am a cat person.

Who is the boxer?

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I volunteer at a cat shelter, helping to socialize the cats that had been strays before coming to the shelter. I get assigned to 2 cats to work with for 3 months at a time.

There are a lot of black cats, black and white cats and several black and beige tabby cats. Some have collars on them to help tell them apart. There is a directory of a sorts, with pictures, names and sometimes a little more about each one. But there have been a couple of cats that I'm not sure which one they are. But I was fine with the two cats I was working with: Mooney, a pretty gray and white cat (the only one that's mostly gray) and Mohammed Ali, one of the tabbies. How some of these cats get their names (my current 2 cats are Phanty and Nyoka), I have no idea, but that is something for another day. Given how many cats have needed names, it's not surprising that some are out of the ordinary.

Mohammed Ali (Mo Ali for short) had been pointed out to me on my first night at the shelter for orientation. So when I was assigned to him a week or two later, I knew who he was. I did check his picture before looking for him on my first day there alone. I found him, and he was a bit shy, taking a little chicken baby food from my finger, but backing off when other cats, who also wanted some of the treat, came over. And he didn't want to be touched; he swatted me when I tried. I went over to him each week, usually after seeking out Mooney, trading baby food on the finger for cheek rubs with her. I also saw the other tabby cats often, and checked out the pictures, trying to figure out who was who. Some of those tabbies look very similar, you really have to check how much white, if any, is around their mouth, and how much brown is on their nose. Well, I figured out which ones were Sally, Liberty and Nyoka. At the end of each of my stays, I wrote my notes into the log book, and checked what the other volunteers had said about Mooney and Mohammed Ali.

Last week that round of socialization was over and I was assigned two different cats:  Phanty, a pretty buff-colored cat, and Nyoka, another one of the tabbies. Each week notes are emailed to the group on the cats' progress. In the notes that came out Saturday night, someone was a little confused on which cat was Nyoka. In the back and forth emails, I made a comment about Mohammed Ali's description being 'long and lean', and that those words didn't really fit him (since he's rather round).

Well, guess what? Mohammed Ali is very lean; in fact he's lost some weight recently and was brought to the vet the other day to be checked out to make sure he is OK.

Uh-oh

I had been socializing Robin, not Mohammed Ali! Well, at least Robin was in the socialization program, too, he was just getting a little extra attention, and poor Mohammed Ali was getting less than a cat with such a name deserved. I haven't been back to the shelter yet to look at the pictures again to see how I made the mistake, and to find this skinny tabby with the big name. And did I really give Nyoka baby food, or did I mix up another tabby? I will make sure I have the right cat this time.

Can you tell which is which in the pictures? Mohammed Ali is on the left and Robin is on the right.