Several months passed and Kerrie told me that her father, Tom, was concerned that Mary hadn’t been quite herself—not the bright, bubbly character we had all come to love and adore—and she was sharp, a bit cranky and sometimes more distant than usual.
Her back was giving her pain, and for the first time in her life, so she said, she had to visit the local doctor. A random X-ray revealed a spot on her lung. She had to see a specialist for further tests, and return for those test results a week later.
Tom became her taxi driver, and accompanied her into the specialist’s surgery for the verdict. The ill-fated diagnosis, ‘You have lung cancer’, was delivered, and the prognosis was not good. ‘It’s estimated you have only four to six weeks to live,’ the doctor said.
Determined to beat any obstacle placed in front of her, she threw away her cigarettes and stopped smoking—yes, after all those years. Mary commenced chemotherapy within two days. As it does in most cases, the chemotherapy took its toll on her energy and vibrancy. She constantly vomited, and progressively became weaker and frailer. I sense she realised there was no turning back, that the illness would eventually take her. True to her spirit, she had organised her life, the will, the burial service, and what was to happen to her dog and assets.
Mary’s final wish was to die at home. The home-care service had modified her two-bedroom unit, as walking upstairs to her bedroom was now an impossible task. Her laundry had been converted into a shower and her lounge room was now to be the bedroom. Discussion had occurred about hiring a part-time nurse so she could have some practical assistance in the home. However, when the palliative care team met to discuss her leaving the hospital, there was a mixed consensus as to how she would cope without 24-hour care. There was one particularly strong-willed nurse who felt Mary should not be allowed home. So Mary’s request to die at home was denied. She was to spend the rest of her living life in a palliative care facility. With no goodbyes to her beloved dog and majestic garden, it would be a solitary existence.
The news was devastating—she had organised so much in her life, and done so much on her own, then her own free will had been taken from her. From that moment, she lost the will to live, declining rapidly, refusing to see anyone but Tom’s immediate family who were frequent visitors to her bedside. She had gone from a robust, energetic woman to a tiny bundle of skin and bones.
Tom was stricken with grief, and could only manage to sit with her for brief moments. It broke his heart to witness his dear friend so incapacitated, and visiting became agonising.
Kerrie’s son Joshua and his girlfriend visited Mary on one Saturday night. Kerrie lived a two-hour drive away in the Blue Mountains and had a young baby, Olivia-Charlotte, to care for, so she needed to plan her visits around the feeding and sleep patterns of her baby. After all, if they scattered the visits between family members, Mary wouldn’t be so lonely or so fatigued talking with them. But on the Sunday, Kerrie had an overwhelming feeling that she must go immediately to see Mary—something wasn’t right.
Peter, her partner, tried to talk her out of making the two-hour trip—it was getting late and she had planned to visit the following week anyway. But so strong was the internal prompting and feeling that Kerrie was experiencing, she decided to leave washing her hair and putting on her good clothes—she just threw the essentials for the baby in the car and she was about to drive herself to Sydney when Peter reluctantly agreed to drive them both to the hospice.
As they entered Mary’s wing, the nurse on duty seemed relieved, saying, ‘I’m so pleased she has a visitor’. Kerrie and Peter sat on opposite sides of Mary’s bed, each holding her cold little hands.
Mary squeezed Kerrie’s hand, acknowledging her presence. It was such an emotional time. Kerrie has what I would call a photographic memory—she remembers everything in fine detail. So as she sat next to Mary, she relived the many conversations and stories Mary had shared with the family over the years of their friendship.
These were of her childhood, the animals she had nurtured and cared for, her happy marriage and the joy of hearing about Olivia-Charlotte’s birth.
Kerrie described Mary’s garden to her—something she adored and would relish hearing about—and the flowers that had bloomed while she’d been away. Kerrie told her that it was okay to go now; her husband, little animals and parents on the other side were now lovingly waiting to receive her. Then it happened—Mary’s tiny cold hands became very warm, and within minutes her whole body was burning hot. Kerrie and Peter were alarmed and called for the nurse.
‘This is a most unusual change of events. I feel the time is very close for Mary to leave,’ the nurse said.
Kerrie sensed Mary’s soul was rising, ready to depart. Olivia-Charlotte, the baby, was becoming restless, as all little ones do, and although Kerrie and Peter wanted to stay longer, what was a peaceful, tranquil setting was now becoming rather noisy and disruptive. So Peter, Kerrie and Olivia-Charlotte gently kissed Mary goodbye, and within several hours she had passed, with the nurse by her side.
The Sign of the Rose
Mary’s passing was not completely as she had wanted it—she was denied the right to pass away at home, so those closest to her brought her home to her in stories, flowers, familiarity and love. Kerrie and Mary had shared the same beliefs about life after death, and that those departed can and will give those they love ‘signs’ they are near. So Kerrie made a decree to Mary: ‘If you are around me, I want to see twelve rosebuds—more would be even better—on your Mary Rose bush in the next two weeks.’
Well, Kerrie didn’t get twelve rosebuds—in fact, the Mary Rose bush sprouted sixteen buds! Kerrie received the message that indeed Mary was around her. Who would have thought a rose bush, living but not thriving and rather sad looking would suddenly come into bloom? Mary was true to her word that the bush would regenerate in its own time.
As I was writing this story, I rang to check some of the details with Kerrie, and she was over the moon. ‘Something miraculous has just occurred,’ she said. Several days earlier, she’d been going through a personal crisis, and had been asking the universe for some guidance. She felt she needed something to snap her out of her depression.
‘If only I could see an owl, that would make me feel better,’ she said. Kerrie had been captivated with owls since seeing the movie Harry Potter. She stepped outside that evening to have a cigarette. The night was very cold, so she wouldn’t be spending much time out there. Suddenly, from her right side, an owl swooped down and landed on the railing of her veranda, just a metre or so in front of her—within arm’s reach, if she had wanted to touch it.
She was stunned! She had never had an owl sit on her veranda, so close—previously she had seen the occasional one sitting up in the gum trees, but so close, never. She wanted to Peter to come and look, but felt that if she called out she’d scare the owl, so she stood motionless.
Then it flew and sat on the tiniest little branch of the Mary Rose bush. So small was the branch that not even a sparrow would be able to support itself on it. The owl fell, shook itself, and then walked some distance onto the cemented area in front of the veranda. It cheekily hopped over to four empty ceramic planters, and peeked inside them as if to say, ‘Hey, there’s work to be done!
These are empty. Get moving, what are you planting in here?’
Then the owl turned to face Kerrie, tilted its head to one side as though it was acknowledging her, waited a few moments, and then flew away.
‘It’s a message, Kerrie,’ I said. ‘Remember how the owls in Harry Potter brought the messages to Harry, rather than in the post?’ I believe the owl was Mary, or from Mary, after all we called her ‘Old Mary’, and reference is always made to the ‘Wise Old Owl’. ‘You’ll be fine, Kerrie,’ I said. ‘The owl is telling you all will be well.’
Devotional love
Animals bring messages, sometimes I believe heavenly inspired. Amanda’s dad had been gone for just three days and she was sitting on her veranda, pond
ering the forthcoming funeral service when suddenly a sulphur-crested cockatoo flew down and sat on the wooden railings. The beautiful yellow feathers of his head were open in full array, resembling a beautiful gold aura, like you see around the great masters of Jesus, Mohammed or Saint Germain. Tilting his head to one side, his eyes seemed to peer straight through her. She had never had a bird like this come to her home.
There were some leftover biscuits from her morning tea on the little table by her chair. Very carefully placing them in the cup of her hand, she gradually moved out of her chair and gingerly walked towards the bird, presenting the small offering. She was surprised as the bird moved closer to her and accepted the morsels.
A flood of childhood memories flashed in front of her, taking her back to her parents’ home in the mountains.
Amanda remembered how the cockatoos would gather in the trees surrounding their home in the late afternoons. Their squawking was deafening, silenced only when her dad ventured out with trays of his traditional mix of moistened bread and honey, one of their favourite afternoon treats. She remembered how her father would lovingly and patiently guide her young hand towards the perched cockatoos, sitting on the side fence. It was how she had learnt to overcome her fear of birds. They had seemed so large compared to the small stature of a seven-year-old child.
Had her father sent this bird? Or better still—was this bird her father? Amanda may never know. Within her spirit she felt that the unexpected visitor was divinely sent to remind her of a fear she had learnt to overcome with the aid of her father’s presence.
Now in spirit, he could still reach out and guide her through this new fear surrounding death.
There will be some people who have not experienced the devotional love of a pet and will never be able to comprehend your depression and sadness at the loss of your beloved pet. You may suffer in silence. Their passing may trigger a memory of someone else you have lost, and the flood of emotions may well rush back.
At this time you may wish to choose some of the examples I have used in the chapter ‘Life is a Celebration’ to guide you through this process. It will take time to work through the emotional roller-coaster you are experiencing. Don’t compare your time in grieving to that of a friend. We’re all at different stages. However, there’s one thing I can guarantee—time does heal!
Many of you will be wondering what has happened to your special mate. It’s only natural to want to know if your pet is with familiar faces or people they knew when they were alive. In one Dearly Departed reading, I remember seeing a particular dog sitting quietly and contentedly on the feet of their loved one, only to be told afterwards that the dog belonged to the next-door neighbour and was always chasing their cats! Maybe the dog chose them because they were a familiar person—it certainly looked content. Perhaps theirs was a karmic lesson of tolerance and forgiveness that needed to be worked out between the two.
Nevertheless, your beloved animal will be linked with familiar individuals on the other side. They are not alone!
15
Time to go
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
St Francis of Assisi
Solomon’s last days became a profound spiritual experience for all concerned. His family’s ritual became a sacred act of service, allowing his soul to be nurtured with grace and dignity as he moved from this world to the next. And as for Mary, her beloved friends’ end-of-life vigil was shared with her through comforting stories, prayers and gentle touch.
There are also some dearly departed souls who choose to make the final farewell themselves—appearing to their loved ones in dreams and visitations. This happened to Diane. Diane just adored her Papa Alfred and Nanna Florence. The extended family all lived within half an hour’s drive of each other, which enabled Diane to spend much of her time growing up with her grandparents. She was especially close to her grandmother. Diane enjoyed hearing stories about when Florence was a girl, and she would read storybooks to Diane. She felt treasured and adored.
As Diane matured into a woman and became a mother herself, they both realised they had something more in common. They both shared a great love and interest in the supernatural world and all things psychic. Diane was devastated when she learnt that Papa Alfred had been rushed to hospital suffering from a severe stroke.
At the age of 82 the prognosis wasn’t good—he could pass away at any moment.
Florence knew Alfred was made of tough stock, and if anyone could prove them wrong he would. She refused to believe he was going to die. The family rallied around his bedside, and the priest had been called to give Alfred the ‘last rites’. The hospital staff suggested the family go home for some rest—they’d be notified if there were any significant changes. Florence was still in a state of denial, refusing to believe that her beloved husband was on the brink of dying, so she went home with the rest of the family to freshen up. A lovely bath was prepared for her, and Diane and her parents quickly showered and dressed, as they knew the hospital may call at any moment. Diane’s parents decided to return to the hospital while Diane stayed with Florence, to keep her company and watch over her as she had complained in the hospital and since returning home of funny pains in her stomach.
Due to the rush to the hospital, Florence had missed taking her daily dose of laxative, and asked her daughter to buy some for her at the local chemist the following day, believing this was the reason for the pains in her stomach. Diane and her dad had recently attended a meditation course, and both had practised a guided imagery meditation recorded on a tape. They had each purchased a copy. Diane felt that if she could talk her nanna into doing this meditation, she’d feel calmer and at peace, and perhaps her stomach pain would settle.
She knew where to locate her dad’s cassette, and made the suggestion to Florence. First she gave Florence some reiki healing then settled her comfortably on the lounge before switching on the cassette tape that played a meditation called ‘The Sanctuary’.
About three-quarters of the way through the meditation, Florence put up her hand and said to Diane, ‘I have just seen my mother and heard her voice, she’s calling me Florrie. Doesn’t it mean when you see this and somebody calls you that you’re going to die?’ Diane explained that she didn’t know what it meant, and tried to get Florence to focus on positive things—that her husband was going to be all right and if not, there would be people in the afterlife who would be there to look after him and make him cups of tea, and not to fear living by herself as she knew she would be welcome to stay with her daughter and son-in-law.
Florence wasn’t comforted by this, as she loved her home and beautiful garden. Diane suggested they return to complete the meditation, but Florence’s mind was elsewhere and she asked if they could leave it for the time being. She was concerned that if her beloved Alfred died, who would make him his sandwiches, get his pyjamas ready, roll down the bed and just basically take good care of him, like she had.
Just then Diane’s parents returned from the hospital saying that Alfred was ‘holding his own’, and if he was still going, they would leave early the next morning to visit him.
Florence was feeling very tired, still with the funny pain in her stomach, so her daughter put her to bed in the spare room, and the last Diane remembers of Florence was of her sitting up with piles of cushions behind her back, her daughter sitting on the side of the bed giving her a cup of tea. Diane kissed her nanna goodbye as she left for her own home for a rest and a change of clothes.
When Diane arrived home, her son was curled up asleep next to his father in their bed, so she decided to sleep the night in her son’s bed. Turning off his bedside light, she fell into a deep, deep sleep.
Suddenly, she awoke to the bedside light switch on, and heard Florence say, ‘Diane, Diane—wake up’. Diane was exhausted, she didn’t want to be rude, but felt she just couldn’t totally wake up— she hoped she was dreaming.
Then her nanna touched her on the shoulder, and in a rather offish to
ne Diane said, ‘Oh Nan, what is it?’ She wondered to herself what Florence was doing in her son’s bedroom. Maybe the whole family’s here to tell me Papa has died. Finally she asked her nanna, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I must leave you,’ Florence replied.
‘What do you mean?’
Florence smiled and said, ‘Good night Dolly, I must leave you.’ She learned forward and kissed Diane.
Still feeling disgruntled, Diane thought to herself, ‘Whatever, I’ll see you in the morning.’
Then she heard Florence say, ‘Goodbye PK.’ Dolly and PK were pet names her nanna called her. She had a drawer full of two types of chewing gum, PK and Juicy Fruit, and whenever Diane left Forence’s house she’d affectionately say, ‘Goodbye PK’, and Diane would say, ‘Goodbye Juicy Fruit’.
Diane went back to sleep, only to be woken by her father opening the bedroom door and switching the light on. Diane asked her father if Papa had died.
‘No, Diane, I have some sad news—Nanna has died. She died while your mother sat on her bed. She said she had a pain in her stomach, took a deep breath, put her head to one side and she was gone. You need to come back to the house, everyone is there.’
By the time she arrived at her parents’ home, the doctor had been and gone, declaring Florence had died from a burst aorta, the police had left and Florence’s body had been taken to the morgue. Diane was devastated as she had only spoken to her nanna several hours before at her parents’ house, where they shared a meditation together, and she wanted to say goodbye to her physically.
Several of the family members escorted Diane to the morgue where she saw Florence for the last time. Diane really felt she needed to see her in the flesh, only then would she believe Florence had really died and the visit from her was a spiritual visitation. Her soul had come to bid farewell especially to her, something Diane would be able to treasure for the rest of her life. The visit did in fact make Diane feel better. It was now obvious to the family that Florence knew Diane would be very distressed and made a special effort to say goodbye.
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