In Memorium: Scathach/Pachamama, 2001?-2017

She was a beautiful tortoiseshell cat, originally known as 'Spitter', mainly because she would hiss and spit at everyone, especially her former human.  When we met her in 2004, she had been living on her own on our apartment complex property for about two years.  She had had at least three litters that we knew of; we had one of the kittens from the first one.  That summer we noticed her taking her three kittens to drink at the pool, which is next to our living room window.  We started bringing them water so they wouldn't drink out of the pool, but of course, that turned into bringing them daily food as well.  She never meowed at us; instead, she hissed.  We soon learned to translate these fairly well:

"Hiss." (Oh, it's you.)

"Hiss!" (We're hungry, feed us!)

"Hiss! Hiss!"  (You're late, where's our food?)

"Hiss?"  (More, please?)

"HISSSS!!"  (Don't try to pet me, you idiot, I'll rip your arm off!!)

We named her Scathach, after the Scottish warrior woman who trained many of the great warriors of Celtic mythology.  It seemed fitting, as her weaponry was rather formidable, considering she weighed only around six pounds.  However, she never once actually scratched or bit either of us, although once she did warn Martin off with a hiss-and-swat when he tried to pet her.  He got off VERY lightly, with only two tiny pinholes from one claw instead of a shredded arm.

While she still had this litter with her, she got pregnant again.  The five kittens (four black females and an orange/white male) were born just over the fence from our bedroom.  Three weeks later, when construction work was threatening the tree she had sheltered them under, we brought them in and set up a nursery in our master bathtub.  (Thank goodness we have two bathrooms!) Scathach willingly followed, and graciously allowed us to stay while she raised her babies.

Well, we found homes for two of those kittens, but Scathach and the other three stayed with us, along with the older two that were still with her and the one we already had.  (The new orange and white kitten was Chango, whose 'In Memorium' is posted here.)  It didn't take long until she stopped spitting.  The day she climbed into my lap, settled down, and started purring, I held my breath in disbelief, afraid if I moved she would hiss and run.  But she didn't.  After watching her continue to nurse her last litter for months, even after being spayed, we changed her name to Pachamama (or Mama, for short), after the Inca fertility/earth goddess.  Over the years, she has never stopped being "Mom" to them, running to see what was going on every time she heard one of them cry, growl or hiss.  Since Gandalf took over as king of our 'herd', she has also been affectionately referred to as the "Queen Mum". 

Then, this last Sunday morning (the day after the one-year anniversary of my mom's interment), Mama came up to me crying; she couldn't close her mouth and was drooling all over herself.  We rushed her to the vet and he found a HUGE tumor in her upper jaw, wrapped around an infected tooth.  We all felt she probably wouldn't survive surgery, so we let her go while we were there.  I am honestly surprised she lived this long; we think she was around 16 or 17, and  was down to 4 pounds, all bones, organs and skin.  She has been 'forgetting' to use the litter box for the last 4-5 months and was pooing on the carpet frequently unless we led her to the box.  Unlike the other cats we've lost, we didn't think she would want to be buried up on the hill in the local regional park (our private 'pet cemetery'), so we put her in the back yard where she can watch over the place she lived all her life.  It feels really weird not having her here, but once we knew she was suffering there was no question about the right thing to do.  

Rest in peace, Mama.  May your children who have gone before you greet you with love.  And may Bast and Sekhmet welcome you with honor to the Field of Reeds!

What Happens After We Die?

It's been a rough year.  I've been thinking quite a bit about death, and what happens after we die.  Obviously, it's of great interest to me, since so many people and pets I know and love are dead now, and others are old enough that I know it's only a matter of time.  I've tried various spiritual paths in an attempt to find beliefs that make sense to me, but so far nothing has permanently 'clicked' in terms of being just right.  I think the real problem is that NO ONE knows for sure what happens to us and where we go (if anywhere) when our bodies die.  And that is what I want to know.

I once went on a shamanic journey to meet Death.  I found what I was looking for, and I will never be foolish enough to try that a second time.  However, even that experience didn't answer the question of what happens to us after we die. Death is not a static thing or even a state of being, but rather an event that transitions us from being alive here on Earth to... being something and/or someplace else.  Or perhaps not.

I do believe that there is something beyond this life other than oblivion; there are too many people who have had near-death experiences who have shared them to make me believe otherwise.  And while I am okay with not knowing all the details, I have to admit I would love to find out more about what is or is not on "the Other Side".  Hey, I'm only human!  ;-)

One of the reasons I no longer follow any of the current spiritual paths (other than occasional forays into the shamanic one) is because I have found too many contradictions within them, and too many things that don't add up when looked at as a whole.  For instance, I was raised LDS (Mormon), and one of the beliefs of that church is that those who attain the highest glories of heaven (the Celestial Kingdom) but who were not sealed to their spouse in an LDS temple will be 'servants' to those who are sealed to their spouses.  This makes NO sense to me, and never did.  Why would a loving and compassionate god force people who had obeyed his commandments, but for whatever reason were not married to another Mormon in a Mormon temple (like maybe they joined the church after marriage but their spouse didn't join), to spend eternity waiting on people who were lucky enough to have what they didn't?  That would be HELL, plain and simple!  If there really was  a "one true God" who knows and sees everything, I don't believe He/She would be that mean or petty.  Same with babies and small children going to somewhere 'lower' than Heaven just because they died before being baptized into a church, although this aspect seems to have been dropped by most religions now.  (This also has me wondering who made that decision -- God, or someone else?)

I followed the Wiccan path for many years, but eventually realized that Wiccans don't really know any more than the Mormons do about what happens after death, they're just much more flexible about the possibilities.  I studied the shamanic path for awhile as well, but then decided to take a break from all spiritual and religious exploration and give myself room to just breathe and think about it all.  That is where I am at this point in time.

So I'm open to any and all thoughts, beliefs, hopes and speculations about this subject.  What do YOU think/believe/hope happens after we die?  Where (if anywhere) do we go, and what (if anything) do we do?  This inquiring mind would really like to know...

Why knowing the reasons doesn’t always make everything okay

After reading several friends’ posts, and watching/reading about current events in the world, I’ve been thinking a lot about certain phrases that many people tend to use when others discuss their problems or talk about a current crisis.  And I’ve decided that, in my opinion, the absolute worst one of these is: “Everything happens for a reason”, sometimes accompanied by “we just don’t know what it is”.  The direct implication behind this statement is that what happened wasn’t some random chance of fate or the result of hatred of the person(s) by the gods.  Okay, nothing wrong with that; it frequently IS comforting to be told that we’re not so insignificant that the universe doesn’t notice or care what happens to us.  However, the indirect implication is that, if we knew/understood the reason for something terrible happening, it wouldn’t be so terrible.  And those who tack on a further comment about karma or how “what goes around comes around” are also implying that at least some fault may lie with the victim(s).

Is it true that everything happens for a reason?  YES, absolutely!  Everything does happen for at least one reason, perhaps more than one. But that doesn't necessarily mean that the people it happens to did something to deserve it.  For example, the earthquake in Japan in 2011 happened because the several continental and oceanic plates that Japan sits on shifted.  The accompanying tsunami happened because the movements of that earthquake caused a specific type of movement of the water.  Their nuclear plants then had problems because the built-in protections that had held up against the earthquake weren’t strong enough to hold up against the tsunami as well.  These things each happened for one or more reasons, and we know what those reasons were. 

But please tell me, how exactly did knowing the reasons make things any less terrible for the Japanese?  Their homes were still damaged or destroyed, their friends and family members were still dead or missing, their communities were still demolished, their jobs were still gone or in jeopardy, their financial situations were still precarious, and they were still desperate for shelter, water and food.  How is it that knowing why these disasters happened is supposed to make it somehow less difficult to bear?  And while some of the fault, at least with regard to the nuclear plants, MAY have been the result of poor planning/ignorance/whatever on the part of various organizations, why should thousands of people who had nothing to do with that feel better knowing they are suffering for someone else's bad karma points?

I hope someone explained it to them so that they felt better about the whole thing.  

There are people who spout out the same useless and unfeeling platitudes when someone they know tells them they have cancer, or an inoperable tumor, or Parkinson's disease, or some other life-altering thing that can't be fixed.  Maybe they don't know what else to say, or maybe they truly believe it themselves.  But somehow, I don't think it would comfort them much if it was said to them in their time of need. 

PLEASE think twice before telling someone that their suffering is happening for a reason, and that they just don't know what it is.  It's not only condescending, it's judgmental and cruel, even if you don’t mean it that way.  Instead, try a nod and sympathetic silence, or maybe (even better) “I’m so sorry this is happening”, and give them a gentle hand squeeze or a hug.  Chances are you'll make their burden a little easier to deal with, knowing they are not alone, and that someone really cares.

Book Review: "9 Realities of Caring for an Elderly Parent"

Way back in January 2014, the day after my mom went to the hospital for emergency heart surgery, I attended a talk given by a woman who had gone through pretty much what I was about to go through, and who had written a book about her experience.  The book is "9 Realities of Caring for an Elderly Parent", and the author, Stefania Shaffer, was touring to promote it, and was invited to speak at our university.  I almost didn't go, because I was afraid the hospital might call while I was at the talk; it turned out to be one of the best things I could have done.  Not only was I inspired by what she had to say at a time when I really needed it, but I bought her book and read it while dealing with caring for my mother and grandmother.

During those two years when I was shuttling back and forth between home and my mom's house (or the nursing center), I  sometimes felt VERY much alone.  Although my friends and family were verbally supportive, I had very little help with anything that actually needed doing, not because nobody wanted to help, but because most of the time no one else was in a position to.  Unfortunately, this happens to many people who find themselves suddenly having to care for elderly parents alone, when other family members are either unable or unwilling to pitch in.  "9 Realities" became part of my support group, because I was able to compare what she had to deal with against my own situation.  I sent copies to a few friends to help them cope as well.  When my mom died, I read the section on grieving more than once, to remind myself that I still wasn't alone. 

"The Companion Playbook" came out just this year, and I was privileged to receive one as a gift from Stefania.  I sure wish I'd had it while my mother and grandmother were alive, I could really have used it as well!  It not only has the really important points from the book reiterated in "nutshell" format, but it has charts and checklists for each point that can be used as written or adapted to your individual situation.  The Playbook can serve as a stand-alone guide without the original book, if you really don't have the time to read that as well. 

Stefania's book is an incredible story of love and forgiveness, and I highly recommend both it and its companion workbook to anyone who has aging parents, even if they are still active and in good health.   You can order both books at Stefania's website:  http://stefaniashaffer.com/

                  

Lest We Forget: Memorial Day 2016

Thank you so much...  It's not really enough, but it's all we can do now. 


  

I'm sure (I hope) most countries have a day of commemoration for those who have fallen protecting it.  For those unfamiliar with ours who would like to know more, here is a link to some information:


U.S. Memorial Day

Thoughts on Death, Part 2: Urban Death Project

Now THIS is my idea of the perfect burial...

Urban Death Project Aims to Rebuild Our Soil by Composting Corpses

I LOVE cemeteries, but I'm not in love with what is done to most corpses, or to what is done beneath the ground.  The toxic embalming fluid, the lead coffins, the concrete "tubs" that coffins are put into so that the ground doesn't sink.  As the article says, it's NOT good for the earth.  And what better way to take care of our earth than to become a part of renewing it by donating our bodies when we no longer need them?

Of course, we'd have to create new ways to memorialize our dead, because I'm sure there will be many who would still wish to do so (including me).  Perhaps scattering small name/date stones or putting up a "memorial wall" with names and dates in a special garden around the site would be a good idea. 

What's your idea of the perfect burial method?  And how would you want to memorialize your dead?

Thoughts on Death, Part 1: Death Tag

A goth friend of mine sent me this tag; apparently it's going around YouTube.  Needless to say, it seems rather appropriate for this blog!


Here are the questions:

1.  How would you like to die?

2.  What would happen to your blog?

3.  Who will you leave money to?

4.  What happens to your body after you pass?
5.  What do you want your funeral to be like?

6.  What will you miss the most that still exists after death?

7.  How will you want to be remembered?

And here are my answers:

1.  How would you like to die?

Peacefully in my sleep would be ideal.  However, if I have to be awake, I'd like it to be as painless as possible, with my favorite music playing.  (And although I love both songs, I think I'd rather hear "Stairway to Heaven" on my way out instead of "Highway to Hell", just to be on the safe side!)

2.  What would happen to your blog?

Don't know, and don't really care as I won't be here!  That's assuming it still exists by then, as I plan to live for a very long time yet.  ;-)

3.  Who will you leave money to?

Money?  What money??  Who has money??? 

4.  What will happen to your body after you die?

 

 I want it to decay and go back into the earth.  I DO NOT want to be embalmed for any reason!  Just put me in a shroud, or at most a cardboard coffin, and bury me deep.

5.  What do you want your funeral to be like?

Whatever makes my surviving family feel best.  But I want "Dust in the Wind" to be played either at my funeral or at the graveside.

6.  What will you miss the most that still exists after death?

Chocolate, of course!!  And my family, and music, and dancing.  And my cats.

7.  How will you want to be remembered?

 I hope I will be remembered with love, and that I lived an authentic life.

  

Now I'm tagging these lovely bloggers (it's optional, of course!), and looking forward to reading their answers:

 ~ Little Corp Goth Girl
~ Goth Gardening
~ The Everyday Goth
~ Roses and Vellum
~ Little Gothic Horrors
~ Goth It Yourself
~Vampire Rose

But if you're not on this list and you post answers anyway, please let me know, I'd love to read them!  :-)

Deadly Quote of the Week

Deadly Quote of the Week

Sorry this is a little late...

This is a quote from Somerset Maugham, recorded shortly before his death in 1965 by his nephew:

"Dying," he said to me, "is a very dull, dreary affair.  Suddenly he smiled.  "And my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it," he added."

Deadly Quote of the Week

I found a book, called The Oxford Book of Death, filled with wonderful quotes and excerpts from all kinds of books, poems and plays, that I would like to share with you.  So this will be the first post using these.  I hope you enjoy them!

This one is from the metaphysical novel, Kleinzeit (which means "little time"), by Russell Hoban:

"Under the bed, Death sat humming to itself while it cleaned its fingernails.  I never do get them really clean, it said.  It's a filthy job I've got but what's the use of complaining.  All the same I think I'd rather have been Youth or Spring or any number of things rather than what I am.  Not Youth, maybe.  That's a little wet and you'd hardly get to know people before they've moved on.  Spring's pretty much the same and it's a lady's job besides.  Action would be nice to be, I should think.

Elsewhere Action lay in his cell smoking and looking up at the ceiling.  What a career, he said.  I've spent more time in the nick [jail] than anywhere else.  Why couldn't I have been Death or something like that.  Steady work, security."

Very human, isn't it?  The grass is always greener somewhere else.  Especially in a cemetery...

In Memorium: Shirley Lee (Simpson) Myers, 1935-2016

On Tuesday, January 19, 2016, my mom finally got her wish, and passed away peacefully in her sleep, almost two years from the day she had her heart surgery.  But her heart didn't give out on her; instead, she made an informed decision.

It was a long and difficult two years.  Changing roles, where I became the one in charge of a good portion of her life, was probably the hardest thing for us both.  But our personal bonds became stronger and closer than they have ever been, as we became true friends and equals as well as mother and daughter.  She had to let go of so much, but she was able to do so only because she trusted me to take up the reins.  I promised her once while helping her up the stairs of her house that I would never let her fall.  That became a reality, not just physically but emotionally and financially as well.

When she made the decision to give up her rental home and stay at Meadowood permanently, it was because we both knew she could no longer live alone.  When she made the decision to stop going to dialysis in early December, we both knew that it was a final choice. It was really hard watching her get weaker and less coherent, but it was part of the process.  She always knew who I was, though, and she looked forward to my daily calls, even though I occasionally had to remind her who she was talking to.

The last two weeks she was unable to pick up the phone, and also lost the ability to speak, but I still called every day, and if a nurse or aide was with her they would answer and hold the receiver to her ear so I could talk to her.  If no one answered, I mentally held her hand and told her I loved her while the phone was ringing, since they said she always turned her head toward the phone when she heard it.

I will miss her horribly!  But I am SO grateful that she is at peace now and free from a body that was no longer working well and a life she was tired of living because she could no longer do any of the things she loved.  I hope my great-grandparents and my "fairy godfather" were there to greet her and show her around.  I hope that she and her younger brother and sister who died years ago are catching up on each others' 'lives'.  I hope that she and her own parents have made peace with each other.  And I hope that she and my dad have also met up and are friends again. 

                                     "In my End is my Beginning."  (Mary Queen of Scots)

Time to Let Go

I just got a call from the nursing center.  My mom has now missed three dialysis treatments in a row (which I did know about), and she missed a few before that as well.  Basically, she is choosing to let go now.  The nurse wanted to let me know, and to ask if they could contact hospice to come in for her.  Of course, I said yes.  The lack of treatments is causing her to become increasingly confused, and she will need the special care that hospice provides.

This is REALLY hard, and I'm not as ready to deal with it as I thought I was.  If you are able and willing, I would greatly appreciate any prayers/energy/whatever that you can send to both her and me to help us get through this as painlessly (at least for her) as possible.

Thank you SO much for all the support you've given me.  It has really helped a lot.  And if I can return the favor in any way, please let me know.

                                            "En ma Fin gît mon Commencement..."
                                                 "In my End is my Beginning..."

"Wow, What a Ride!": The Euthanasia Coaster

Have you heard about this idea for a unique form of assisted suicide?  (I consider it to be "assisted" because obviously one couldn't create one's own personal coaster in the backyard):

Roller Coaster of Death

I'm of two minds about this one.  I think it's a wonderful and unique idea for those who love roller coasters and who want to enjoy one last "wild ride" before moving on.  But I can foresee some HUGE problems for whoever runs it, including insurance issues, anti-euthanasia protestors, family members wanting to sue, etc.  And what about price?  Would this be made available to people of all incomes, or only those who can afford to spend a lot of money?  Then, after it's all over, who takes care of the body?  And most important of all, what if it doesn't cause death by the end of the ride, what then??  So many things to think about in advance!

This got me to wondering what other kinds of options could be made available.  I can't think of any, but what about you?  Do you have an idea for an awesome way to go?

Mummification Meditation

The other night a friend and I did a "mummification meditation".  It was totally awesome, and I want to share the experience with you.

First of all, we've been reading a book called "Walking the Twilight Path: A Gothic Book of the Dead" by Michelle Belanger.  (Please note, this is NOT a "Twilight" series book, this is a serious book.)  It's about getting accustomed to the idea of death and dying, which used to be a part of all cultures and really should be again.  One chapter is devoted to a discussion on the pomp and circumstance of burial in ancient Egypt, and this meditation is included to give the reader an idea of what it might have been like.  We made a few changes to it, namely that my friend did the meditation as the deceased, while I took on the role of the ka-priest in charge of the preparations and burial, which was not in the original meditation. 

The room we used is my private 'sitting room', which has all my altars and gothy stuff in it.  With the Egyptian wall hanging, the black curtains, candles, incense holders, statues, etc., the place looks like it could actually BE a room in some Egyptian tomb.  I had her sit in the rocker, as there was no room for her to lay full length on the floor.  She put on an eye mask, so she saw nothing; it was all about sound, touch and scent.  Then I lit the candles and incense, turned off the lights, and played the background soundtrack of the 1979 Tutankhamun exhibition. 

As the music played, I read passages of a modernized version of the Egyptian Book of the Dead, called Awakening Osiris, by Normandi Ellis.  While reading portions of the text, I touched her head, hands and feet with my large ceremonial ankh and rattled my replica sistrum.  Next I annointed her in a few places with special scented oils.  To give her a sense of being wrapped in bandages, I lightly wrapped a piece of linen around each hand and foot, then removed it and placed it over her head like a veil.  During all of these, I continued to recite various passages of the book.  Finally, I did a very short version of the 'Opening of the Mouth' ceremony, which ritually allowed the soul to speak through the body, and was done as the last ritual after the mummy had been brought into the tomb.  Then I faded the music, as though the priests and attendants were leaving and sealing the tomb.  A profound silence fell as the mummy was left alone to begin its eternal existence.  I let the silence last for several minutes before ending the meditation.

What an incredible experience for both of us!  I was worried that she might not have gotten much out of it, but she was thrilled and came out from under the linen veil and eye mask with a huge smile on her face.  She said she really felt that she had experienced something special.  And I was totally psyched after doing such a beautiful and elaborate ritual.  I'd love to figure out how to do this on a more regular basis!  But mummification isn't exactly popular in the U.S. at the moment, so it's not too likely.

If you'd like to hear the music I used, here is the YouTube link for the entire album by Ali Jihad Racy:  Ancient Egypt

"That which is named can be written.

That which is written shall be remembered.  

That which is remembered lives."

The Death Clock: How Long Will YOU Live?

While doing an online class on the biology of ageing, I came across a comment someone made about using the "Death Clock" to see how long they had to live.  Well, how intriguing!!  So I Googled it, and of course, I found it.



According to its calculations, I will die on December 18, 2053 at the age of 91 years, 8 months and 3 days.  Interestingly enough, it also mentioned that the average life expectancy of other females living in the U.S. with the same BMI who took the test is only 68.3 years.  HAH!!  And my maternal grandmother passed away in March last year at the ripe age of 97; she would have been 98 in October.  My great-aunt, her older sister, lived to be 99.  So I'll be in good company.  However, I'm not exactly thrilled at the thought of expiring on my ex-mother-in-law's birthday...  And it's right in the middle of the holidays, which will put a good many people out.  The good news is, at least it should be dreary, cold and rainy during my funeral!  :-)

To give yourself a date to look forward to, go here:  Death Clock

Noli Timere Messorem

"Don't fear the reaper."

Have you ever read any of the Discworld books written by Sir Terry Pratchett?  They are truly hilarious, and he created SO many memorable characters.  Of course, my favorite (other than the three witches) is Death: his feet click when he walks, he speaks in CAPITALS, and his favorite expression  when annoyed or upset is "OH BUGGER."  He also has a weakness for cats (live ones), and will feed and play with them whenever he can.  The thing he hates most is having to reap litters that have been drowned on purpose.  And did I mention that he loves good curry?  This is a Grim Reaper who seems almost human, although he is very much aware that he is NOT human.   Pratchett liked him so much that when he designed his coat-of-arms, he used the title of this post as his motto.  (I'm actually surprised that he didn't have crossed scythes on his coat-of-arms as well.)

I guess that's one of the reasons that I am so fond of pictures and jewelry that feature Death as a personage.  And I would be thrilled if he (or she, or it, or whatever) turned out to look that way when it's time for us to meet formally.  However, most people are not fond of him in any form, and would be far from delighted if he should come strolling in, even if it seems inevitable...

As I grow older, and watch my friends and loved ones grow older as well, it's almost always in the back of my mind that The End is actually coming, that it is inevitable, and that it is often much closer than it appears.  I watched my 97-year-old grandmother go from being "fine" living alone until she fell and fractured her hip (she really wasn't fine, but she was still able to function independently) to dying in a nursing center less than three months later because after she got there she just let go of living.  Yes, that is how it seems to me, because she wasn't ill or in pain, her body wasn't fighting her, she was just tired of going through the motions of living every day.  Most of her friends and family were dead or not close enough to visit so she was alone most of the time, and she was just... tired.  So she let go as soon as it was 'safe' to do so.  I have always felt that she was rather glad to see the Reaper arrive in her room, probably asked him why he kept her waiting.  And she really loved to travel, so I'll bet she was out the door ahead of him; I hope he was able to keep up...

Rest in peace, Grandma Clara and Sir Terry.  May you both have fun and wonderful adventures wherever you roam.

So, how do you feel about the Reaper?  Is there something you'd like to say to him when you meet him?

The Vulture

Yesterday was a holiday in California, at least for those of us with state and federal jobs.  After lunch, Martin asked if I felt like going for a walk to a local park; it sounded good, so off we went.  Since it was sunny, he wore shorts and a tank top.  I, of course, was decked out in my gothy finery, complete with black parasol -- we WERE going for a stroll in the sun, after all!  There were only four other people there when we arrived; we passed the playground equipment and were wandering across the baseball diamond and back toward a small grove of eucalyptus trees when we noticed the vulture.

It was on the ground, all alone, in the middle of the sunny lawn, which was a bit odd as they usually hang out in groups.  It seemed to be very interested in something on the ground, and as we got closer, we realized it was having lunch -- and from the long, fluffy tail we could see each time it was picked up, we could tell that lunch was a squirrel, or  rather, what was left of one.

 

The vulture was a really beautiful bird, with dark, glossy feathers and a very bright red neck and head (much brighter than in this pic I found).  It looked really out of place in the middle of a children's park -- yet at the same time, it looked perfectly natural.  'In the midst of life, we are in death', and all that.  We were truly seeing the cycle of life and death, all in one small area.  As we watched, a quote from a poem about the Mesopotamian kingdom of the dead and its queen, Erishkegal, passed through my mind, and I spoke the words aloud:  

"Perfect are the ways of the Underworld."

In Memorium: Chango, 2004-2014

Chango was born on September 19, 2004, while my coven was having a Mabon ritual at my house.  We knew his mother was pregnant, as we'd been feeding her and her two older kittens for quite a while.  Our first glimpse of him on the day he was born (we have a picture in our main computer, which is on the fritz right now) was of an orange and white ball of fur surrounded by four black balls of fur (his sisters). 

Because they were in danger from a construction crew who didn't know they were there, Martin brought them all inside when they were three weeks old, along with their mother.  We eventually found homes for two of them, but Mama and the other three stayed with us, and we took in the two older kittens as well.

Even when they were still nursing, Chango always had to be in the middle of things.  He had soulful golden eyes that made you melt looking into them.  He was spoiled rotten, and got into the habit of whining when he wanted something.  He loved to cuddle and be carried like a baby, but kneading was his life.  As a human, he would have made one hell of a bread baker!  He was constantly rushing between my feet to get into my altar room so he could sprawl on the floor and hang out with me there.  He brought love and laughter into our lives, along with some frustration and a few tears.

A couple of years ago, he barely survived an infection that started in one fang and spread to his lower jaw.  I told him then that he couldn't die before we paid off the $845 bill.  I don't think he made it, but it wasn't for lack of trying. 

Last month, we found that his liver had failed, and he had a less than 33% chance of the medication helping him.  Fortunately, it did, and we were given six extra weeks with him.  However, a few days ago, he began going downhill again, and this time the vet found a mass in his abdomen.  He told us frankly that, even if he managed to successfully remove it AND even if it wasn't cancerous, having two serious medical situations so close together meant that Chango's chances of surviving another year were low.  Because of this, combined with his age and the prohibitive costs, we decided to let him go.  We didn't want him to have to go through all this misery a third time.  So the vet gave him a tranquilizer before the final shot, and we held him and rocked him until he fell asleep.

Losing a beloved fur companion is never easy; it's even harder when you are with them from almost their first breath to their last.  Then they're more like your children.  On Monday we will take him to where our other children in fur are buried.

Bast and Sekhmet, please guard your brother Chango, and guide him safely to wherever our beloved cats go! 

We love you, Chango!  Rest in peace, Mango Boy.

Book Review: Death, a Life

 Death, a Life  (with George Pendle)

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, it's a weird title.  And it suits the book just perfectly.  Taking the reader from before the creation of the world up to the (almost) present day, with side trips to both Heaven and Hell, the autobiography of Death Itself should indeed be considered a "life", or at least, an attempt at one.

I find this book to be both funny and terrible at the same time.  Not terrible in the sense of being written badly; on the contrary, it's beautifully written, with lots of quiet (and not so quiet) puns and plays on words that really made me smile.  Rather, it's terrible in that it brings the reader face to face with some truly horrendous aspects of people and of our society in general.  I'm sure there are a lot of things I'm still missing when I read it, but I find something new every time that I hadn't noticed before, and it gets better each time around.

Death, a Life is a "must read" for any goth worth their absinthe.

Is Today a Good Day to Die?

The other day I had a meltdown.  It was inevitable, really.  I've just got too much on my plate right now, and I had to throw open the door to my Shadow closet before it either imploded or exploded.  So it was actually a good thing, although the timing could have been a little better.  ::sigh::

Among other things, something that has bothered me for a long time but now has become a front-row issue  is how our society deals with aging and the elderly while at the same time spouting the praises of modern medicine's ability to allow people to live longer.  Every other weekend I visit a place that is full of older people who are no longer capable of living alone or taking care of themselves.  Some have physical issues, others have mental issues, and the really lucky ones have both.  Some have devoted family members and/or friends who visit frequently and keep them at least marginally in the social loop, while others are totally alone because either their families and friends have abandoned them or they have no one who is still living or close enough to come. Many of them lay in their beds or sit in their wheelchairs and just stare or sleep all the time.  Are they content?  I have no idea.  My grandmother was becoming one of those people towards the end, especially when she could no longer hear or make herself understood to those around her, and I know she was not enjoying that.  She had been telling my mom for years that she was ready to die anytime; she was just waiting to go.  We thought she had a health care directive ("living will") that indicated her wishes, but we were unable to find it; we still have no idea where it is, or if it ever existed.  She was fortunate that she died naturally, before any decisions about life support had to be made.

I'm not afraid of death... I'm afraid of being forced to continue living after my body has decided it's time to die.  While I do have a health care directive that clearly states I do not want to be kept alive in a permanently vegetative state, and I believe that both my husband and son would honor that wish, what about other types of situations?  I believe that someone who is permanently in ill health or extreme pain but who is still in control of their mental faculties should be allowed to "let go" and die if they wish to do so; this would include people with dementia, Alzheimer's, or some other form of mental deterioration who still have fairly long periods of lucidity and rationality.  I think it would be awesome to be able to do it surrounded by one's family and friends in a social ritual, like birthdays, weddings, showers, baptisms and confirmations; the way it is done in certain movies such as "Logan's Run" is a good example (although we'd have to change the part about it being a form of population control, with everyone being forced to die at a certain age regardless of their health).

I know it probably sounds horrible to many people, but why can't we be as 'humane' to those of our own species as we are to other animals who are ill or in pain and never going to get better?  We have our pets and other animals "put to sleep" by a veterinarian rather than force them to live with a lingering illness or die a painful death.  Why shouldn't people be allowed to do the same, with society's blessing?  Now I'm definitely not saying it should be required of everyone (or anyone), and it should never be decided by someone other than the individual in question, but I do think it should be an option for each of us.  Since DNR ("Do Not Resuscitate") directives are legal, why not legalize LMD ("Let Me Die") directives as well?

Remember Terri Schiavo?  She lay in a nursing facility from 1990 to 2005, unable to move or speak, and the doctors said she was brain-dead, which meant she had no consciousness of anything or anyone.  Her husband and parents fought for years over whether she should be kept on life support or allowed to die, and the only ones who actually benefited from this were the doctors, hospitals and nursing facilities who received exorbitant sums of money for keeping her alive while the fighting went on (not to mention the lawyers). Her family only ended up with heartache that continues to this day.

What do YOU think about this subject?  Should it be socially acceptable for permanently ill or injured people to choose their time to die?  Why or why not?