More than Words: More than Physical Reality

More than Words: More than Physical Reality



                                    Unable are the loved to die/

                                    For love is immortality

                                                            —Emily Dickinson


            When I sent out an email updating friends about Chance, Rita asked if I’d be willing to include it in LaJoie. The following are excerpts:


            The last two and a half days, knowing they were our last, were a gift. I was in that beautiful place, my awareness intensified by the knowledge of our limited time together. I could be 100 % present with her, and I was.

            The death of her physical body was incredibly peaceful and beautiful. I had an alter already set up, with her candle burning (I had lit it earlier for Amy’s little Torkey, who died in a freak accident that same day), votives, and three beautiful stones. There was the little scrap of paper, her adoption ticket, with just a number, no name. A beautiful day outside and the bedroom window was open and the breeze came in. She went so easily; I think her little body must have been worn out and tired for a while.

        Life is always intensified in these moments and we live in that pure space of LOVE.

        I’m still in it, but the sacred bubble that’s present with a peaceful passing wears thin, and then the grief seeps in. At times the pain is intense... the little things... you know... the fluids, the meds, and the food prep that was just for her (sweet potatoes and rice) and her bowl. How can one so small leave such a huge hole?

        While there is grief, I never lose sight of the gratitude. There was so much to be grateful for over the years concerning Chance. And the two, sorrow and gratitude, can coexist nicely. Not always so with stress. Sorrow beautifies and purifies, whereas stress gnaws an ugly hole and is hard.

        Already there have been many, many signs. And already she has come to me in the breeze. Last night I opened Yoganada’s book and read: “I am living, as always. Do not lament; am I not with you forever?” And “You must meditate more. You could not see me hiding behind the sunlight.” : )

       When I was doubting my decision to euthanize, I opened at random The Hours and read, “We can make it comfortable. But this is the bird’s time to die, we can’t change that.” Spoken by Vanessa Bell to either Julian or Angelica, and an original sketch by Julian hangs in my home.

       But the most amazing sign of all came the day after her transition when I had to go to work. The words I always told to Chance and wrote about her were, “I love you more than words can say.” It was the last thing I said to her before she died, whispering it into her ear. Driving to work, the wind blew the leaves “inside out”, the clouds drifted across the sky and the sun shown. I could feel Chance in the wind. I looked up into the clouds and sky and said, “Chance give me a sign today.”

        My favourite wine rep came by with wines to taste. The first wine he set on the table and that we tried had a unique label: Written upon it, in many different languages from Catalan to Japanese to English were three words: “MORE THAN WORDS.”

       We humans operate on such a small, linear plane. Mother earth is beautiful. Father universe is amazing.

       Chance is the clouds, the mock orange that now blooms and that we sniffed together in Parc Monceau in Paris, the lilac and, most of all, she is the wind. I feel her most poignantly in the wind.

        When planting a white moon flower that a friend gave me in memory of Chance, I said to myself and to her, “I won’t forget you.” And there, out of nowhere, reaching across as if to touch me with its slender, fragile stem was one blue (Chance’s colour) Forget-Me-Not, waving and bobbing its smiling face in the breeze.

       The wind chimes sing and I know she is with Flash, happy and free.