Messages from Ann and the Angels – 04/13/2013

Sunday morning my dear little furry one woke me at 4:44 and went outside. When I went to check on her, she was on the patio, shivering with fear and thinking hard. The night before she had chosen to sleep out under the stars for the first time in all our years together. I knew what I didn’t want to know. I wrapped her in a soft blue towel and laid down with her on the patio, holding her and watching the sunrise, until I felt her sigh and relax in deep peace. She smiled at me and we just sat there looking into each others eyes with great love.

I asked her if she wanted me to stay with her. I had planned to spend a few hours at the Desert Botanical Garden while it was cool and she was outside for her regular morning nap. Instead she told me to go by getting up and walking away from me. It was the only time she walked by herself in the last few days. When I got home a few hours later I was happy to see her still there and still smiling. She had enjoyed a nice nap in her beautiful backyard filled with the scent of roses, lavender, and freshly watered grass. I had experienced a relaxing and beautiful morning amidst bountiful flowers, bees, and butterflies. Our hearts were full.

We went inside and took a nap together on the bedroom floor. As I held her head to my heart, my sweet little girl almost slipped out in her sleep. She awakened with a start and looked around with a confused expression as if to say, “Where am I?” “I’m here,” I told her as I hugged her close. Again, she gave me the most blissful smile. We even got her on the iPad while I was face-timing my mom, but clearly she was getting tired. She kept falling as she tried to walk and when I went to check her back end, I saw some pretty sad stuff that is too gross to discuss. It was the same as Bruno’s final issues. I knew. I asked her if it was time. Instead of looking away or glaring at me as she has every time in the past when asked the same question, she smiled. Quite clearly, I heard her tell me, “I’m ready.” She was at peace with the decision. We hugged for nearly another hour and then finally I felt it. “Its time,” I told her. “Are you ready?” She attempted to get up and as I helped her she even attempted to climb in the car. As I was choking back tears, she was trying to ease my pain, telling me, “ts OK. I know. I’ve made my decision.”

So off to the vet we went. At the stoplights, I saw her sweet little head peer over the back seat and she looked at me with the most incredible love I have ever seen in her precious eyes. My heart melted. At the vet’s office, she smiled at the nurses, the assistant, and saved her BEST girl smile for the man vet, because she loves everyone but she LOVES men. He loved her right back. He confirmed what I felt, telling me that there would be no quality of life and increasing pain if I were to make her stay. In spite of knowing, I choked back tears for Lucy’s sake and asked one more time. “Are you sure you’re ready?” She grinned. I took a deep breath. “You knew all along it was today, didn’t you?” I asked her. She smiled SO big and started that breathing that is the equivalent of doggie laugher. I had to smile. She was clearly ready, and she has never, ever been ready before. She had made the decision long before I was willing to see it.

Everyone left us for awhile. I played Robin Miller’s song, “Dancing with Angels” on the iPad. It soothed us both. I hugged her, kissed her, thanked her, and told her I loved her and always would, with all my heart. She had a moment of shivering as she pondered her transition, then she relaxed into my arms as I reminded her I’d be with her all the way across the veil. Soon she was smiling again, so happily. I grabbed the iPad and we did our favorite thing – took pictures of us snuggling, there on the floor of the vet’s office, moments before her transition. At one point, she indicated she was tired, so I put the photos away and just held her. She looked into my eyes one last time as the nurses came in with the catheter and she proceeded to shut her eyes and fall fast asleep, as I held her head to my heart, even before the first shot was ever administered. After the kind doctor administered the pre-sedative, she did what only Lulu would do and started snoring like a boat motor which always made me laugh. Soon, even before the final shot was finished, there was silence and I saw her standing in spirit, just over her body, with Bruno, my husky wolf in heaven. She looked young, radiant, clear eyed, and healthy. I felt her warmth. The two of them took off running into a forest, while the vet left me to cry tears of emotional exhaustion. After a bit of my waterworks, the two dogs them came back in spirit. She was wagging and jumping like she used to when she was young and everything worked In the spirit world, she ran to a dirt area and dug like mad (She used to love to dig) and came running to me with a gold heart that she dug up. She was showing that this was her “tag” now… she had found her heart, and I had helped. I have never witnessed such a peaceful and pain-free transition.

I saw her and felt her as I do with most everyone who has passed, but I don’t ever remember grieving anyone so strongly. The sadness was so deep and profound that I felt like one of the women wailing at the crucifixion. As I wrote on Facebook, “Grief comes and goes like a tidal wave crashing upon the shore. It carries you in its power, tumbling you with ocean of emotions. Then in peace it recedes, leaving you to see the treasures it has left behind – grateful for every breath of life, every relationship, every sunrise. So when you grieve, ride the waves, knowing its love pushing you into the depths, carrying you into the heavens, opening your heart to a greater expansion and understanding of how deeply you can feel.”

I prayed and asked for help. As Divine timing would have it, this is the very week that Braco, a beautiful transmitter of Divine light is gazing on the internet, and Sri Karunamayi, known as the incarnation of the Divine mother was in town. There are no accidents. During the first “Gazing” session with Braco on the livestream Wednesday night, the entire flood of grief was washed from my heart never to return again. I was filled with joy, truth, and a love so profound that I felt like I had been transported into an entirely new reality. Lucy and I joined our hearts in a glorious dance of celebration for the lessons learned, the obstacles surmounted and surrendered to, and the incredble love that we shared between us. Laundry, pouty faces, guilt, and frustrations were all things of the past. I felt only the incredible and blissful freedom that we were beginning to experience in this new phase of our eternal relationship. My heart wasn’t just healed, it was raised into the joy of eternal love. And to my great amusement and delight, Lucy continues to share her experiences in heaven with me so I can write them on her facebook page. She wants all the friends who sent her love during the last week of her life to know her joy, to understand a dog’s perspective better, and to never have to worry about their loved ones in the afterlife. I do believe she has found an even greater sense of purpose. She and Bruno (my husky wolf) have also reunited and are having the time of their lives. I not only see them in heaven, but also feel them visit me at home, vying for my attention as they did when they were young and strong.

God was with me, as his Presence is with you, every step of the way. Even the most difficult moments in our lives can be filled with incredible grace if we surrender to them, pray for help, and just simply bring love into the situation. I could not have done this alone. I felt the hand of God and the love of angels guiding and holding us both every step of the way. I was even guided to buy extra bleach, and also to fill the refrigerator with good food the day before Lucy transitioned. After thirty loads of laundry and a load of tears the few days after her passing, those “small” miracles were gifts of God’s tender love.

So don’t forget to ask for help in your life, for all things great and small. Then just do your part. Love yourself. Be true to your own heart. And from that space of fullness, love others. I thank God that Lucy and I came to know a brilliant, beautiful, and beatific love between us. My heart dances in celebration of two souls who graduated with honors, knowing that in the end, happily, there is always and only love, and love never dies.

I love you all,
With gratitude for the outpouring of love you have shown me,
Bruno, Lucy, & A