Angels among us

I have always sought the rational, scientific explanation. Despite that, I have also been a person of faith, although at times in my life, that faith seems to be built on a very thin foundation.

It feels paradoxical, but my father's death has strengthened my faith of things beyond us. I sometimes wonder if that is the reason that he died...a death so that his daughter could understand better the purpose in life. Yet, I do not think the answer is so simple.

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She came to see me, bright and vibrant, dressed up for her visit with me as so many her age do. Scratch that....there aren't many her age, and most can not bring themselves to the doctor. She looked "much younger than her stated age." SCRATCH THAT. She didn't look her age at all. Try 65 rather than over 90. Thankfully, she doesn't really need me. She was sent for a lab abnormality which we agreed to watch rather than aggressively pursue. When we had confirmed that all was well, that the abnormality had not progressed, we had time to visit.

I have pictures on my office walls. Pictures that I have taken of butterflies and flowers. She had noticed at last visit, and had brought a card that resembled some of my pictures. She suggested that I should make cards as well. I do, sometimes, but in the emotional exhaustion following Dad's death, I have fallen woefully behind in that process. I told her "I used to do that, but this spring has had a lot of stressors."

"Oh, Sweetie, that's right. Your father died. How is your mother? Is she getting along?"

I was a little surprised, not remembering us talking about my father dying. I do reveal some of my personal life, but usually limit those revelations to things of limited importance like the dogs. With her question, we talked about my mother. We talked about how proud I was that my mother had recently come to visit, traveling alone. This earthly angel confirmed how frightening those first trips in widow-hood can be, after living and aging with a mate that one finds is suddenly gone. She told me the key to staying young, "Always pick friends 20-30 years younger than you are. Otherwise, you will find your friends keep on dying on you." She related a recent celebration some friends of hers had given her -- celebrating her life's commitment to music. In my ever-so brief encounters with this angel on earth, I understood why her friends had wanted to celebrate.

As I spoke with this sweet lady with twinkling eyes, I had a sense of a greater presence. I did something I normally wouldn't do. I asked a question solely for my benefit. "When your husband died, did you ever feel that he was still with you?"

She paused, looking at me with eyes that transiently lost their sparkle. I was concerned that I had asked something that was causing her pain. As she looked at me, the twinkle returned and she whispered, "Oh, Sweetie! You know people aren't supposed to talk about that, but OF COURSE!" She went on to describe how one day, two months after her husband's death, she awoke to see him watching her sleep. She said that he looked like he was physically in the room with her, although she knew that he wasn't. She knew, at that point, that it was all going to be well. As she talked, I could see her entire face relax with the memory that telling brings. Even though many years have passed, she has continues to feel his presence at odd times. Because of that, she isn't afraid of dying, and knows that it will happen. In the mean time, life isn't quite so sad, and she knows that she still has a purpose here.

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I haven't had the courage to ask my mother if she sees or feels Dad. I know she still grieves his death, although since he has died, she has talked to me of dying. I still grieve my father's death, even though some days, I feel his presence in a way that I never felt when he was alive.

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I saw poem at the hospital this week:

What Cancer Cannot Do

Author: Unknown

Cancer is so limited...
It cannot cripple love.
It cannot shatter hope.
It cannot corrode faith.
It cannot eat away peace.
It cannot destroy confidence.
It cannot kill friendship.
It cannot shut out memories.
It cannot silence courage.
It cannot reduce eternal life.
It cannot quench the Spirit.

One can scratch out Cancer and put Death at the top of that poem.
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There are angels among us, both angels of the world beyond and angels here on this earth. I was lucky enough to meet both this week.

Crime Spree

I was just watching the am news from the Big City. They reported a "crime spree" in my old neighborhood, with more than $60,000 worth of jewels and goods being stolen. They showed a picture, only a few blocks from my house. Hmmmm....guess the guy (or guys or gals) that were helping themselves to my televisions and other household appliances, on a somewhat regular basis, have realized that I have left the 'hood.

I got used to getting a new TV every 6 months or so....Nothing like a little burglary action to induce some deep house cleaning....look at the dust that I had under that TV. Obviously, it should have been removed much sooner.....Seriously, I am so glad that I don't have to deal with my personal crime spree anymore.

Charlie, aka Charles, aka Carlos. Run free.

I have been intending to blog. After Dad died, I felt a tremendous urge to write. There seemed to be a message for me in his death and funeral. I learned so much about the man that I called "Dad", and he taught me so much, even in his death. However, with his death came a profound emptiness. My work is demanding, and I could not stop. As a practice, we have been over-extended, and there was no energy for writing at the end of the day.

I did not want my first post back to be a sad one. But it is.
Charlie came into my life 9 years ago. Darby, my first whippet, had been more than I could have imagined, but as I was going to be busier with training, I wanted Darby to have a companion. Charlie was advertised as available on a whippet list. He was a hoped for show dog, but the "man bits" just didn't go to the right place. He was advertised as cat friendly (and the poor dog didn't know what to make of the "hissing fuzzy" that was my cat, Peyton, when he arrived). He was 11 months old when I got him. He and Darby had been born exactly a month apart, with Charlie being the junior dog.

Oh...the first 6 weeks I was not certain that it would work. He and Darby fought. The fights were bad, blood drawing disagreements. I thought Charlie might need to be returned. I received advice from lots of people. The thing that helped...they both loved to walk, so walk we did. Now, I realize that Charlie must have been petrified. He had grown up in the country and didn't understand the city smells. Initially, he would slam against me every time a car passed. I knew that our relationship was going to work out the day I walked into the kitchen. One of the dogs had pulled an entire loaf of bread off the counter. They had shared it. Silently. I, the silly human, was not alerted to their jack pot. Darby and Charlie were never great buddies. They didn't lie with each other the way I had envisioned. However, I know Darby seemed happier after Charlie came into our lives. Today, Darby seems to be especially depressed. His life long buddy wasn't supposed to be the first to go.

Charlie loved racing. He was absolutely fanatical about it. However, although he went crazy at the race track, he was never quite as focused on the racing as one would have liked. I couldn't load him in the boxes. If I did load him, about 20 yards down the track, he would remember that he was running away from me, and turn around and come back. If he knew I was at the other end, he would give it his all, slamming into the pack of the dogs at the end like the best of racers....always coming in next to last. It was on the race-track that he earned the name Carlos. That was his evil twin that was expressed whenever people had to box him. Still, he loved race...he just wanted to race by his rules, without the box.

With time, Charlie worked his way into the depths of my heart. Charlie was always the worrier. When we would take trips, he would be the dog that would stay awake, just to make certain that I was going the right direction. For the first 6 years, I could never go to the bathroom alone. With time, I became aware that he was a Geek -- kind of like me. He was always a little socially awkward. He had a tendency to blurt out the wrong thing at the wrong time. I swear, there were times when the other dogs would roll their eyes at his pronouncements. Still, like most geeks, he aged gracefully. He didn't have a mean bone in his body. There were times, when I would watch him walking away, a little confused that his social forays weren't accepted by the other, but he always came back to me to give love as only a dog can.

Charlie was also a klutz. At some level, he seemed to lack the grace of my other dogs. I am convinced that he almost broke my nose on more than one occasion. He was always ready to be my companion. He loved jogging with me, while Darby would drag (although I think that was Darby's chronic liver disease speaking to us). He learned to retire to the bedroom early, so that he would have the spot that he wanted: plastered up against my left side. That space was so empty last night.

Despite not always fitting in, he was both Gabi and Hudi's buddy. Gabi and Charlie always seemed to have a special link. Darby was the alpha of the pack when Gabi arrived on the scene as a stout pup. When Darby got sick, he and Gabi seemed to agree to co-manage the motley crew. However, Gabi never really gave Charlie grief...until she had puppies. I could see the confusion in his eyes the first time he got too close.

About 4 weeks ago, Charlie became ill. He stopped eating well, and he had a fever. I took him in for evaluation. Labs were normal except for anemia. Tick serologies were negative at the vet's but he suspected Babesia. After having the peripheral smear reviewed (that suggested a "non-regnerative anemia"; there were no hematoparasites identified), serologies were sent and came back positive. He received the appropriate treatment. The antibiotic made him very ill, but he failed to improve. The fevers continued, increasing. The anemia worsened. I sent off serum looking for other tick-borne diseases, but everything was negative except for Babesia. After conferring with other vets, the consensus has been that he probably has something else, but if so, there is unlikely to be anything that would be treatable with the tick borne disease on board as well. I was told that I should make him comfortable.

I made a most difficult decision yesterday, but walking across the room was making him short of breath. The light had gone from his eyes. He had lost 20% of his body weight in 4 weeks. Despite that, when I called him, he came to me with "party" ears up. Coming to my across the yard he had to stop. I think he was probably dizzy. To wait longer would just increase his suffering. To wait longer would keep him close for me, but not for him. The antibiotics were not working. Other antibiotics only made him sick (and by my reading would not work).

Charlie, I love you, bud. I hope this was the right thing. I so appreciate that last kiss you gave me as my eyes were leaking, even though I could see you were having a hard time standing.

One of my friends wrote that he was probably still in a magical place near me. Is that why I keep on thinking you will be behind me, where you always were, waiting for me to finish on the computer? But then my eyes, limited by their humanity fail to see....If you are there, I'll be listening for your bark, and I try to remember how you were always ready to love and share. Oh, Charlie. I miss you. Thank you for blessing me so.

You will always have a place deep in my heart. Run free. Run strong. Check on Dad and keep him company, 'kay?

Charlie, Cara Sardonyx by Design
9/9/99-7/3/09
Champion of my heart