If you let him go, he can walk with me
In my father's passing 15 years ago, I always knew and felt he was watching over me. I see him in the form of a special butterfly. Whenever I make a big life change, I ask the universe if I made the right decision and suddenly a butterfly flutters by to let me know, "I am here, I approve, I support you." I think it is my father, or my old dog Ivy who have been my angel guides. I always thought Ivy would tell me that the clouds were so soft on her feet. Being a city dog, she only knew how to walk on pavement.
And so here is the beauty of it all. I had such a difficult time putting my dog, Bosco, to sleep 4 years ago. He was a very special dog that had witnessed 13 years of my life. He went with me from California to Texas to Washington DC and then Arizona, witnessing me fulfill a life's dream. He saw me in years of deep depression and years of high anxiety. And he saw me in some years of calm. I never let him down though. I made sure he had plenty of playtime and walks. He traveled the happy face tour with me. I call it the happy face tour because if you draw a line from Los Angeles to Texas, to DC, and back to Arizona, it looks like the smile on a happy face.
When Bosco's time came, it took me two days to go in and out of the vet to administer euthanasia. But the enlightening moment was when I sat quietly and I asked my angel guides to help me make the decision, and my father came to me. This time I heard his voice while looking at my rose bush. He said, "If you let him go, he can walk with me in the mornings." When I heard my father say that, I looked around to make sure I was not going crazy. With some skepticism but then acceptance that what I heard could be valid, after all, I always believed that all these years, my father has been watching over me, perhaps he truly speaks to me in my greatest time of indecision. I really believe that was my father talking to me from the afterlife, letting me know that there is something beyond what we know in the here and now. And that I don't have to feel bad about letting go of my Bosco. Bosco had a place in the afterlife with my father. And my father would have his companionship. How comforting it was to know that they would have each other. Endless walks together, without pain, on soft ground surrounded by meadows.
When Bosco stopped breathing at the vets, I felt and saw my father's arms come down and take my dog's soul with him. I saw them walk away together peacefully. They didn't even look back. This is what was meant for my dog. To be taken to the afterlife in the arms of my loving father who had grown to have an appreciation for a quiet stillness in his old age.
And now, in retrospect, I think about my father when he passed 15 years ago. Had I known then what I know now, I know my father's brother was there waiting for him. When my father passed, his brother probably came to him and asked him to sit down on the sofa and drink tea and start talking where they had last left off decades ago. I do believe the transition from life to the afterlife is just that peaceful. It is those who are still alive that wonder and are filled with loss and unanswered questions. I think the answers are so clear. Who do you love, and what pet were you attached to that has passed on? They will be there coaxing you to join them. You have been apart for too long and now is the time to be with them, in a new form, without limitation, without pain or suffering from our own self-inflicting thoughts. The afterlife is relaxing and filled with consistent joy.
I have had many profound experiences with ending the life of a pet or a family member. It is a heavy responsibility especially with pets because they cannot communicate. But we all know, we don't want them to suffer.
With people, it is even harder because they can communicate. When given the task of telling the doctors that they no longer want life support, one can be consumed with guilt. At the same time, facing that loved one as the decision is made, having love in my eyes, and putting their needs before my own grief and soon-to-be loss is a struggle. I am at war with myself, pushing my feelings down while being strong to support their decision and validating it by having a pleasant smile and calmness. They know they can rely on me to be their voice.
Here is the perspective I have gained over the many times I have been given the responsibility. It is an honor to respect someone's wishes. That they would trust me to carry out their wishes is the greatest gift I could give to them. In letting go of my father, I felt so heavy for a decade until I realized, I was just respecting his wishes. I wasn't making the decision, he was. He needed my voice to tell the doctors on his behalf. He wanted to pass with dignity and on his terms. What a beautiful thing I could do to be part of that process.
Comments
Post a Comment