pet grief

Frankie in Pastel Chalk

Update 7/10/2012:  Many of you loved the pastel chalk drawing my friend’s Mom did for me of Frankie. I’m sharing the artists name and email as she is available to do a pastel chalk of your pet, too if you’d like.  It is easy to do with a photo you send her through email.  Her name is Marilyn Dumar and her email is mdumar (at) wi (dot) rr (dot) com.

Today I created a little altar in memory of Frankie on an old desk in my writing cottage. Just as I was done, I got a call from my friend, Missy who said she had a surprise for me.  I met her at the salon where she works. She gifted me with this lovely drawing of Frankie that her mom, Marilyn did. It is done in pastel chalks.  Marilyn took a photo from my website to base this drawing off of and it is one of the last photos I took of Frankie outside. I couldn’t have been more touched. I keep looking at it and can’t believe how the eyes just draw me in.

Missy told me that her mom has never taken any art classes. Wow. She really is quite talented, don’t you think? I love how she captured all the white on Frankie’s face, too. I think having an altar with photos and a candle, and whatever else it is that makes you feel connected with your beloved pet is such a wonderful thing.  I still have an area downstairs that is dedicated to my chocolate Lab, Cassie Jo who passed away almost seven years ago (7-11-2005).  It is therapeutic for me to sit in my big wicker chair and look at the photos and think of all the warm, wonderful memories of Frankie… which have been flooding my mind quite a bit this past week. Every night before I nod off to sleep I tell Frankie I love her and I miss her. I’m pretty sure she hears me… I can feel it in my heart.

Dear Frankie. Are You In There?

Dear Frankie…

Is that you in there? As I drove home from the vet office, your beautiful box beside me, the tears came once again.

The minute I walked into the house, I opened the box to find your cremains wrapped in burgundy tissue.  I slowly unwrapped the tissue, knowing full well what lay beneath, but wanting more than anything for it to really be you- to be able to hold your sweet, soft body once again and kiss the side of your snout a thousand times.

It felt odd to come to the plastic bag holding what is now left of you. Is this all that is really left of you? It’s a part of you, this I realize, and this box containing you shall be sacred to me. But I realized, too, that this is not you.

You are all around me and in me… embedded forever in my heart. I read something today that said, “Footprints of love.”  That is you, dear Frankie…. that is you.  Oh, the footprints of love you have left behind.

I told a friend in an email that though there are times I can’t bear not having you here,  I would not trade having had  you here just becuase I knew the loss someday would be so hard to go through.  I’ve realized deeply in the past two weeks that my ultimate pride and joy was caring for you each and everyday.  I loved sharing you with all the children we met, too, and sharing your story in every way possible that I could, but when it comes down to the core of what I loved most about you– it was taking care of you and helping you live the best quality life that you could —and just being with you in the simple little moments of life. I was truly in my most happy state of joy just being there for you and being with you.

Last week Saturday a friend at the Farmer’s Market said to me, “Frankie completed you.” She is right– you so completed me.  Not only did you complete me, but you helped to complete me- to help me grow into the woman I am today. I knew there would be a day when you saw I was strong enough for you to move on, and though I never wanted that day to come, my heart smiles because you did all this for me… and so much more.

I’ve thought a lot about the day I was told you had only a 10-30% chance of walking after rupturing your disk. I think about if I had let fear paralyze me, fear that I couldn’t take care of a handicapped dog, fear that my life would change, and angry that this was happening to me. I just can’t imagine not having had the last almost thirteen years with you, with the last almost seven being some of the most powerful and life changing moments I’ve ever experienced.

So dear Frankie, though your cremains lie still in the small sacred space of the beautiful brown box, your life and all it was, continues to be full of life all around me.

Not to hurt our humble brethren is our first duty to them, but to stop there is not enough. We have a higher mission—to be of service to them wherever they require us.  ~Saint Francis of Assisi

 

Frankie and the Animal Communicator

Frankie, June 20th, 2012

The day before Frankie’s passing I called my friend, Mary to tell her that I thought I had a very hard decision to make soon in letting Frankie go.  Almost immediately she said, “You need to call Dawn.”

I didn’t expect for her to say that. I said, “Who is Dawn?”

“She’s a friend of mine and she is an animal communicator.”

I’ve had readings done in the past for my chocolate lab, Cassie Jo who passed away in 2005, as well as for my yellow lab, Kylie, so I was familiar with the power of what can be discovered through animal communication.

It didn’t occur to me to do this with Frankie.  What a gift my friend gave me in making this suggestion.

Dawn Brunke  has published several books about animal voices, animals as our guides and animal teachings.

I  called her as soon as I hung up with Mary. When she answered I explained to her that Mary referred me and explained my distress. She was in the middle of a big book production project, but dropped everything to help me. She said, “Send me three recent photos of Frankie, and one recent one of the two of you.  Call me back in an hour.”

As Frankie lay on the ottoman, I sat in my big wicker chair across from her as I dialed the phone an hour later.

Dawns’ soft voice answered, “Hi Barb.”  My voice shaking I said, “Hi Dawn.”

She said, “I want to share with you first what Frankie is telling me to tell you. We can then move into any questions you may have for her.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Frankie told me loud and clear that you two are a team. There is a very deep love between the two of you. Frankie says that there has been an evolution of equality between the two of you. She is reaffirming that what you gave her is equal to what she gave you.”

She continued, “What I’m getting from Frankie is that she was a channel of healing energy for you- that there was much below the surface for you that needed healing.” When Dawn said this it brought me to tears. Nothing could be more true– this is one of Frankie’s biggest gifts to me is helping me heal the feelings of failure and inadequacies I’ve felt about myself over the years.

Dawn said, “How old is Frankie?”

“She will be 13 years old on August 20th.”

“Oh, well she says she feels like she is 17. Meaning she has lived a very full life.” When Dawn said this it actually brought me some comfort. I had so wanted for Frankie to live to be at least 16, 17 or 18.  So in a way, she really did.

Dawn said, “Frankie does not want you to blame yourself for what seems so sudden with her illness.  She has felt this tiredness coming on for a long time, but never showed it to you because she was invested in your feelings.”  Again, the tears ran down my cheeks to think of all this little girl did for me.

“She’s now telling me that she really started to enjoy more the presentations you did together.  She said that you learned to go with the flow and she liked that.  At the beginning you used to be too controlling.”  Wow, that could have not been more true and I couldn’t believe Frankie told Dawn that– no one but Frankie and I would have known this– it was very true and it make me chuckle.  Public speaking is a hard thing to do and I remember how nervous I was at the beginning, and being an organized person to begin with, I was quite controlling, wanting everything to go perfectly. But as I moved into the groove of speaking to audiences, I learned to relax and just be me.

Dawn said, “Frankie says you are a real go-getter and that she often fed off of your high energy.  Frankie stayed longer than she had planned, but that her life was better than she could have ever imagined.”

Dawn also told me that she felt that Frankie gave me a deeper and softening of my heart- helping me to not be so controlling of situations- and deepening my compassion not only for animals, but for people as well.  I must say, that yes, I do agree with that, too.  Frankie taught me all that and more.

Dawn then shared with me that things are winding down with Frankie. Though they were words I feared hearing, I knew it in my heart already in the wee early morning of Wednesday that Frankie was ready to move on.  Every time I’d glance over at Frankie overnight Tuesday, her head was held up, and she did not sleep. It was as if she was not here.  Dawn affirmed that Frankie was floating in and out of being here on earth and wanting to move on.  I clearly sensed that as we moved through the day on Wednesday that she was letting go– I could see it in her eyes. I knew. I just knew.

Dawn said, “I don’t sense a need of urgency in making a decision whether to help Frankie or she may also just go on her own. But what Frankie wants is what is right for you- whatever you need to do.”  Through the tears I knew this, too. There was such an incredibly deep bond between us- how could I have not known?

I thanked Dawn for dropping everything to help me.  She thanked me for allowing her to be a part of Frankie’s journey.

As I hung up the phone I cried like I’ve never cried before— not only out of deep sadness, but also out of realizing how incredibly lucky I was that I traveled the most amazing journey with Frankie.

I’ve often said that I have no doubt that the past six years with Frankie and all we did and learned together was meant to be– even if I do nothing else in my life– this is what I was brought here to do during the time that we did.  And I also know, though my heart felt like it would literally crumble all around me, that I did the right thing for her at the end. We so often fear death, but if we can be present to it and be open to the gifts…. there are many… and I feel so privileged to have witnessed many gifts near the end of Frankie’s earthly journey… and the gifts continue to come.