As a Communicator/Healer for animals and their human companions I spend time helping people and animals work through loss. It can either be the loss of an animal or the loss of a human. I have written articles on dealing with "Saying Goodbye." On Monday, August 18, 2008, I had the opportunity to remember some of the words I had spoken to others grieving a loss, I said goodbye to my 17 ½ yr old siamese cat, named Mocha. One more facet of life and death came home to roost.



Mocha and I were given the gift of six months to say goodbye. In February of 2008 Mocha was diagnosed with kidney failure. We both agreed her kidneys were challenged and began holistic assistance to find the balance her body would now have. We talked about many things. We talked about the diagnosis, the ageing process, and her physical bodies deterioration. We agreed that although her test results showed shut down, she could choose how she would live. I placed emphasis on the word LIVE, reminding myself it was her decision. In trying to hear my own advice and live in the present with Mocha, she told me not to be so understanding about it all. That it was a hard time for both of us. We had never minced words with each other and were not about to start now. I followed her lead and we had many precious moments living, how she chose to live, the ending of her cycle of life in this body. I often wanted to talk, to spend as much time sharing as we possibly could. She told me humans, in her opinion, talked to much and reminded me of that often. I reminded Mocha that is how humans primarily communicate with one another. I heard a very poignant "Oh." This time I said nothing. Her wish was to just be together, to communicate from the heart.

Mocha Rum and I were companions since she was eight weeks old. She would make me laugh when attacking the dog and then a moment later, tell me they were putty in her paw. The memories are all pouring in now, having been stored for these very days. I would begin to learn to live without her body. As much as my mind knew, all that was true about losing her physical body, not her spirit, and her love, I still wanted more time. I had said goodbye to more than her. I said goodbye to another part of my life. I felt like I had been hit by something I couldn't see after she died. As each day passes and each new experience is had, I feel the weight of her leaving. I drink my coffee in the morning, without her on my lap. When I am in bed, she is no longer on my pillow or on my chest. When I feed the rest of my animal family, I no longer make a special meal designed especially for her. When I sit down at night to read, she is no longer laying on me. I also know now, how so silently she was there for me, through the last 17 ½ yrs of my life. Each moment, of the first few days, took reminding my heart to feel the love I have for her, and to honor the hurt that was speaking louder, not to deny it. I want to keep the love we shared alive and honor her memory, by living and loving what she taught me. Sometimes to stay silent gives space to observe.("I finally figured it out Miss Mocha"). That love is always there even if we can't see it. That being surrounded by our animal companions speaks loudest in the silence.

The love we cultivated while she was in body, with a final breath, was released to the universe, no longer being held tight by me. Her spirit has merged with the whole, in a form I can longer see. Her directness is in my thoughts, and in the silent memories are her love. And when I need it most, her memory reminds me to stop over thinking, just to be.

We each have our own experiences of "goodbye." From what I have learned, in the work that I do, our animals do not want us to stop living and preserve their time in body with us in a vacuum. There is a natural time of mourning and transition to be honored and lived. That time is different for each of us. Remaining in the flow of our lives, without freezing any part of it, gives life to the form our relationship takes on after their death. Letting it take its own course, guides us to each new experience, and to each new love. When we let the release of their body be a closing to future experiences of love that is a choice. To continue to open to new avenues of love with others, is also a choice. That choice is different for each one of us. Love is a gift to be nurtured, in whatever places it takes us.

Farewell my dear friend. You are forever in my heart.