Daniel's Eleventh Christmas in Heaven

Dearest Daniel,

         I still think that this is the most beautiful song, that says the words with which I struggle, so well. As I know you are aware, your brothers and sister have continued to grow here on Earth. Some of them have married, and some of them have children, and are thrust into the challenges of being young parents. I know you watch with interest as they navigate within this difficult world.

      Sometimes, I still feel your gaze and sometimes in dreams I hear your words. I know that you think that it is time to shed some of the possessions you had while you were here, and that your nephew and niece might enjoy them. I will do this. Please know that although I don't understand why God called you, along with Papa Lawrence, that I trust in the Lord God to keep you both safe. I know that you both looks after the animals who depart this farm at the end of their long lives.

    I look forward to seeing you both, and all of them, when it is my turn to go. Merry Christmas to you both, with great love,


 Mom

On the Anniversary

                  

Autumn in the region where Daniel lived.

       This week, on November 28th, on what is this year, American Thanksgiving, you will have been gone eleven years.  I am already wondering how I will feel next year when you will have been gone for as long as you were actually on the Earth.  Having my youngest son in Heaven ahead of us does not get easier, I just get a little more graceful about it.

                     I was hospitalized last month, as you know, for a medical problem, and interestingly, I weathered it well because I knew I would not be dying as a consequence of that particular hospitalization.  I knew it because, you usually give me some hint or advance warning in dreams, as to the bumps of life, and you mentioned not a word, and so I knew that in the grand scheme, I would continue as I have been, and a month later, that has turned out to be true. Dying someday will be a complicated proposition, because I need to remain here as long as possible for grandchildren and my remaining children, and yet the prospect of seeing you, Dad, and all the animals who have passed from our farm in my lifetime, looms as an attractive eventuality. I think I scared my doctor when I rewrote my Living Will, but it was time anyway.

                     Daniel, you are still so missed, and I still remember the sound of your voice, the things you liked and disliked while you were on Earth. I know that Thanksgiving was probably your favorite holiday.  Your eldest brother and his dear wife got married, on this week several years ago, simply to give our family something to celebrate at this time of year, rather than to mourn. 

                      You are still so loved and you are remembered by everyone. I still remember what a hug from you feels like, and I think back to it fairly often. I am sending you both one of those big hugs.  Sometimes, I still hear you in my dreams.  We continue to live. We move on, while we remember.  Love to you and to my Dad, always and forever.

I Did As I Promised

          

         Daniel,  This year in November it will be eleven years since your sudden and surprising passing. I still remember that within a week of that passing, we had a conversation in dream where you told me that you were fine, but that you had to leave Earth and that you had stayed as long as you could. Longer, in fact, than had originally been planned. So much sorrow washed over me then. There were so many things I wanted to show you about the world. There were so many experiences I wanted you to have. I also wanted to watch you grow and see how you would find your way and succeed upon the Earth.  In that same conversation, you told me, summarizing here, that I was to watch your siblings and your Dad, and take care of your animals until they made their passage back to you.  I have tried to be faithful to the promises I made then. There have also been some animals the farm has acquired after your passing, and I hope as they pass, you and my Dad can ensure that they are loved until I eventually arrive.

             I have fulfilled those promises.  I do what I can, and the new joys you promised have come as you said they would. However, you should know that each day I think of you. Each day you are missed. Almost each day we speak of something you did or said, and you are remembered very fondly.  Your nephew enjoys looking through the items in your room. I have occasionally given him some of the smaller things I didn't think you would mind.  I am keeping things, for the moment, that you enjoyed particularly.

             I miss you.........and yes I know, you love me more.

            

Wishing Everyone a Festive Fourth

       From Daniel's family, his animals and his friends, we all wish you a festive Fourth of July and a safe and memorable Independence Day, however you like to celebrate.

Daniel's Last Dog Has Gone Home

Sally

                   In 2004, we were in the process of relocating our dogs and alpacas to a new barn and acreage, in advance of having a home built there. During that time, we had a particularly hot July, and one of our dogs, a male golden retriever named Albert died as a probable result of angry yellowjackets, which likely caused an anaphylactic reaction. Since we were at the new place while waiting for the old one to close, most of the time, we probably missed his being stung and his passing, by only minutes. Sadly, we actually had animal epinephrine in the event that someone had a reaction when given standard immunizations. We were devastated at the loss of sweet Albert. It also made us wonder if our new acreage was repelling us rather than welcoming us.

                  A couple of weeks later, a female golden labrador, who could have been a sister to Albert arrived there. She had a cheap blue collar I noted had come from the Dollar Store.  She was in no hurry to leave. We fed and watered her, and tied her as we tried to locate her owners.  I put pictures of her with an information sheet at seven different local gas stations and grocers, and since we are very rural here, I placed some as far as thirty miles from here, since so many people commute. I contacted five animal shelters as lost animals in the country often originate from surprising distances, all to no avail.  No one called us, and no one locally had ever seen her before.  We took her to the vet to get her a rabies shot. They didn't know of anyone missing such a dog, and eventually they put us in touch with the local pound, and several weeks later, we adopted her.

                Daniel always enjoyed animals, and this one year old puppy was no exception.Daniel named her Sally. In fact, she also had a middle name, which was Ann.  She was very calm, sweet and devoted. She adapted quickly to our other dogs, and a couple of months later, we had her spayed. She enjoyed our farm animals, and she never ran off. She always stayed near the kids.

                Finally the new house was complete, more farm buildings came, and four glorious years passed. In 2008, when both my father and Daniel died, all of our animals missed Daniel desperately. Sally had a way of listening as if she understood all that you were saying. She had a very comforting manner also.  In the years which have passed, Daniel's dogs have all died one by one, each of them making it to quite advanced ages. Jake, the German Shepherd died the following year. Jared, the Siberian Husky also died in his teens. Rosheen, the Jack Russell Terrier was elderly, and Mark, the black labrador who had seizures, finally died at thirteen. Alvin, a tricolor hound who came to us as a rescue was said to have been twenty when he died. We even lost a couple of large dogs to advanced age that Daniel had never known, since Daniel has now been gone eleven years.  All through this time, Sally hung on. She was sweet and well, and it was hard to believe that she was as old as she was.  About three years ago, during her vet visit the vet prepared me for the probability that she would probably not make it through the Winter due to her advanced age. Of course, she did.

               In 2018 Sally had a stroke, and we knew from a dog we had some years ago who also had one, that if you can hand water and feed a dog through the acute phase of a stroke that many of them will recover almost completely within six weeks. So we worked hard to care for her. By six weeks she was nearly completely recovered, and the vet started her on an eighty milligram aspirin each day. We knew her days we limited, but we cared for this sweet dog as if she were human. My husband worked very hard to do her physical rehabilitation, and he has videos upon videos of her walking around the farm, in all weathers, sometimes with a coat on that resembles a turn out coat for horses. The vet was astounded at her longevity.

             The last few weeks have been rough. She has been failing, but she has not been in pain. We will euthanize our dogs if they are in pain, but she has just been slowing down, needing assistance with feeding, and using a sling in order to stand to use the bathroom and to ambulate.  Yesterday, she wasn't hungry and didn't want water. She wouldn't take my special home brew of lemon dog gatorade.   Sally passed relatively quickly and easily tonight at midnight with my husband and I standing beside her telling her how glad we were to have had her join our family.  She passed on to Jesus and to Daniel tonight, who now has all of the dogs he knew here on Earth, with him. There is only one more alpaca who remains on Earth that he knew, otherwise all of the animals here on the farm joined us after his departure.

           Thank you Sally for being such a wonderful part of our lives through joy and through sadness. Please know you are loved very much. Daniel must be thrilled to have you with him now, and you will see your old friends whom I believe are also with him, and with my father, who always loved dogs.   Godspeed, sweet Sally Ann.

Tunnels in Time After Child Loss

          

       The loss of a child is a strange thing. It can be a bit like moving into a time tunnel. One one side of the tunnel, the world is stopped in the place where you lost your child. In my time tunnel, this side is missing Daniel and he would be 12 1/2, and my other children would be the age they were when he died. In some ways, this is the last place I was before the Earth underwent terrible, sad and dark changes.  On the other side of the time tunnel, life has moved on and many changes have taken place. I have a grandchild who is four now. Some of my children are married, and some have their own homes and businesses. They are through colleges now. The other side of the time tunnel, known to most of you as the present has some other odd features. Daniel, is of course, not here, but if he were, he would be 23 years old now.  It's strange to try to imagine what a Daniel of 23 might look like, what he might be doing and where he went to college. It can be bewildering when you add his friends. Recently, one of his friends got married and they are a lovely young couple, and not at all too young to enter such a daunting commitment. It is hard to reconcile that even one of Daniel's friends has married.

          Other than that, I am still working, still writing, and still caring for one remaining dog that Daniel knew, named Sally, whose days are likely numbered now, due to advanced age. We have other dogs on the farm, but they were acquired after his departure. There is one alpaca remaining that he knew, and chickens who are the grandchildren of the rooster be bought the day before his passing.

             May your own tunnels in time be happy and secure places, on either end.

Happy Birthday Daniel

 
 Happy Birthday Daniel, on what would be your 23rd birthday here on Earth.   So much has changed since your departure, and so much has stayed the same.  Despite the fact that you have been gone eleven years this year, Sally, the dog remains from the time in which you were still here.  Warrior Princess Camellia, the alpaca, is also here, and hails from the times in which you still were.

     We think of you often, and send our love.

    

A Mentor for All

James H. Bowles, MD, Sr.

       As an adult I moved out to the country with my large family. One of the owners of acreage that adjoined mine, was the man above. He was elderly when I met him and was still practicing family medicine while being the leading member of our county's local government, that year. He seemed impressed that I was a critical care RN, and the mother of all those kids, but he impressed me far more. He did a huge amount of continuing medical education and always knew the latest discoveries and research in internal medicine, immunology, endocrinology, and cardiology. This was very impressive indeed because I do a great deal of continuing medical education myself and he always could quote the studies I might have asked him about, even when the specialists who saw my kids couldn't.

       Eventually, we bought the parcel adjacent to my original, and sold our home here. He told me of the history of the parcel, of the people who'd lived there, of the European hornets who had occupied the parcel for more than eighty years he'd known of himself.
As my children grew and I spoke with more people in the county, I learned that our dear friend had accepted chickens as payment for medical services in the past. I learned from another friend that our favorite country doctor sat with him in the driveway when he was a child, after his father had died suddenly in the yard of a heart attack. Everyone in the large rural county had a story to tell of how this man, and his family had helped them or shown them special kindness, often in the darkest of times.

      We spoke on the phone now and again, about new treatments for Crohn's Disease, or collapsed mines on local properties from the 1930s. He told me how things were on the new land where we'd built our newest home, during the Depression.

     Ten years ago, when Daniel died suddenly from a presumed sudden heart rhythm disturbance at only age 12, Dr. Bowles was one of the first people at the funeral. He knew also that my own father had died just thirty days before Daniel. It was as if God had sent a spiritual father to me on that terribly dark day. I am grateful for all of the people who spent time with our family that day. Lots of people report to church or give money to it, but few apply Christianity as consistently and as well in everyday life as Dr. Bowles so clearly did. Like me, Dr. Bowles was also color blind. No matter what the color of our eyes or our skin, we are each brothers and sisters and children of God. He knew it. He walked it, every moment of every day.

       I remember when he walked with us to show us where an old well had been that he walked the property faster than I. I had to have been in my early forties and he had to have been in his eighties. I was impressed when I heard about the fruits and vegetables in his diet, and I decided to implement some of his strategies in my own, although it took me years to do it.
We hadn't spoken in a while. I had been taking care of my grandson while his mother worked, and the horses took time, and Dr. Bowles wasn't as active in the county as he had been. This week, when I heard that he had passed, I could almost not believe that he was 97.

      Dr. Bowles was not simply an acquaintance or friend, but a mentor. He was a person who, without preaching, validated our kindest impulses to be generous with our time, and with our training with others. The world was a good deal brighter here due to the efforts of this dear man. Our county, many families, and many people are far better off as a result of all of our interactions with him.
I have no doubt that when Dr. Bowles has finished being greeted for a life well lived by Jesus, and by countless relatives, friends, and patients, that Daniel and my Dad will have moments in the light with him to tell him how important he was to our family, and to me. Perhaps he already knows.
Please make sure that the people who are professional and spiritual mentors to you in this life know it, and know what they have meant to you. May God bless you all, just as Dr. Bowles would have.

        This posting, with some changes,  appeared originally on my Linkedin page.