Tag Archives: death

” I Can See Clearly Now”

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At the end of the mini series “Genius,” Einstein is dying, and as his long time secretary looks at him with sadness, he takes a flower from an arrangement and holding it in his hand says, “Look deep into nature and then you will understand everything better.” 

I looked at Tom with a childlike excitement, and said,  “I learned that all by myself!” 

Just a few simple lines, and yet they hold within them a great awakening, opening up a whole new world for us. You don’t even have to be a genius to discover it yoursełf. It reminds me of when my father-in-law had his cataract surgery. He said he could see things with such clarity and crispness, and the colors were so vivid. When our own blinders are stripped away we can also say, ” I can see clearly now.”

” Cracking Open”

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“Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” -Leonard Cohen, “Anthem”

Everything starts from a seed including us. I wonder if we live within that shell all our life with the seed being our soul and our lifetime here on earth being a gathering of all we need to slowly begin the painful process of cracking open. Many of us have felt the harder blows of life that leave an opening so wide that it goes straight to the heart of the soul. Whether our cracks are big or as small as a tiny papercut it is how the light gets in and once we experience the warmth it brings the more our soul craves it. Like our hands reaching upward we begin to sprout moving toward the unknown yet a knowing that it’s the natural process of who and what we were created to do. Yes, there is a comfort in staying within this place we’ve existed, and a fear of being exposed and vulnerable to the unknown. It’s never easy to step outside of our comfort zone to leave behind all that’s been a part of us, but the light continues to pull us toward it, and it is only in the letting go that we can fully begin to blossom in the fullness of the light.

Most importantly let us not forget in the process of breaking free…to ring the bells that still can ring, and forget out perfect offering. Look around there are cracks in everything. It’s how the light gets in.

“My Dog Gone Grief”

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img_0267On October 23, 2016, we laid our sweet Ollie dog to rest, and our hearts have been broken in these last few days without him. I think about how ironic it is that this happened on the same day that I always posted “Sundays with Ollie.”  For us it was literally our last “Sunday with Ollie.”  I kept thinking he was 13, but after looking at his papers he was actually 12. He became a part of our family in October of 2004. I remember the day we picked him out. I was going to take home the first puppy that came up to me. They say it’s their way of picking you out, but Ollie was too busy chasing his brothers and sisters around the yard, and he was the runt of the liter. I fell in love with him right off the bat. He was 6 weeks old and so tiny I could hold him in my two hands. As we took him away from the only family he knew he was scared, but he melted in my arms as I began to hum softly in his ear. Our bond began, and while Tom wasn’t much of a dog person, it made him happy to see me so content. Ollie, being the personality that he was warmed his way into Tom’s heart as well.

As I was looking through his papers I found the receipt for a dog training class I signed him up for. It made me laugh remembering how totally uncooperative he was. Ollie was more interested in playing with the other dogs then learning how to behave and listen. He had no fears of other dogs, he’d let the biggest ones know that he was no push over. By all accounts some people might consider him an irritating dog with his loud bark and his piercing stare, but it was his charismatic personality that overshadowed anything else. I would do anything to hear that bark one more time right now. As Tom said, Ollie was one of a kind, and surely our most favorite of all pets.

God has a way helping us through our losses. We simple must be open to what he has for us to receive. As we left the pet emergency, taking Ollie home to bury him in our back yard. A woman appeared out of nowhere seeing how distraught I was she said to me, “peace be with you sister, you’ll see your furry little friend again someday.” Then she took my hand and prayed that God would bless me with his loving peace. I felt like she was an angle placed right where and when I needed her. The next day as I was sitting in my sacred space, the void of Ollie was overwhelming.  His presence always played an intricate part in helping me to become centered. Feeling unable to concentrate on anything, I started flipping through my “Science of Mind” Magazine stopping at an article called “Dog gone grief.” I couldn’t help thinking how much the title sounded like something Ollie would say in one of his post. The author Stef Swink was writing about the recent loss of her own 13yr old dog. She was reminded by a friend, that it’s ok to allow ourselves to feel life’s heartbreaks. “Deep love,” she goes on, “is worth the pain! If you are in anguish, allow it and honor it.” That’s what Tom and I are trying to do. It feels like we’re on roller coaster of emotions, same as we were when we lost our loved ones. There’s the ups and the downs, the twist and the turns, and the downhill screams allow me to cry as loud and as hard as I need to, letting my tears heal my heartbreak. I talk about my grief, because I can only share what I feel. But both Tom and I know by the grace of God our “dog gone grief” will slow down when the time is right. It is then that we can sit with the treasured legacy that “Sundays with Ollie” has yet to offer us.

Tom tries to lighten the mood by telling me that Ollie is with our other dogs now, his brothers, and knowing Ollie he’s probable chasing them all over the place in heaven.

I can hear him saying his favorite line, “I’m a lucky dog, indeed!”

“Gone But Forever In My Heart”

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Today marks the anniversary of my Dads passing. I miss his hugs, and our many wonderful conversations, but I still hear his wisdom in my heart. I am so grateful for the time we shared in the last decade of his life when we really got to know and appreciate each other. Not just as father and daughter, but as the person God created us both to be. You can never get those years back once they’re gone. So I encouraging anyone who’s parents are still with them to cherish every moment you have together. While in the process why not try getting to know them as a person instead of the parent you think you know. Believe me there’s a whole lifetime behind them, and they deserve to have their life validated by the children they brought into this world. Who knows you might learn something that will explain a lot of interesting things, and in turn help you to understand their actions, beliefs, and misunderstandings. All of these efforts allowing forgiveness to take place where needed. Leaving a space behind for us to fill with more love for them. All you can do is give it a try. I did, with both my patents, and I am forever grateful for the healing that took place before they were gone forever from my life.