Sacred Transitions

I had heard it said before that it is a Sacred act to be there with someone when they make their transition. I have never had this opportunity, until recently.

First let me say that the story you are about to read is about my cat Tigger who has been my friend and loyal companion for 13 years. Now anyone who has had a pet knows that they are part of your family.

While I can appreciate now the Sacred act of being there for Tigger during his transition, the last few days were extraordinarily painful watching him slowly deteriorate.

It started on a Tuesday when his hips were so arthritic that I noticed that he was walking funny to his food and waterbowl. I took him to the veterinarian who gave him a cortisone shot and said he was in good health otherwise.

Then Thursday night things took a turn for the worse. He was barely walking and he started puking. I made an appointment to have him put to sleep on Friday. He was about 16 or 17 tears old. All Friday he was just lying around and didn’t appear to be in real distress. Tigger has always been so afraid of cars, I thought that it might traumatize him to take him to the veterinarian, and then be put in an unfamiliar surrounding with an unfamiliar person. To me, at the time it seemed best to let him peacefully die at home among myself, his brother Talmage, and familiar surroundings.

I had long talks with Tigger, explaining that it was okay for him to go and that I would be alright. I told him that I loved him and I thanked him for being with me for so many years. Then I tried to just let him be, but I couldn’t. It was hard for me to let him go. I wanted to help him. Not help him live, but help him die peacefully. I hugged and kissed him. He turned his back as if to say, "I don’t want you to see me like this."

I held him, I stroked him, I prayed with him and I sat with him. I even slept with him on the bathroom floor, and I cleaned up after him.

At one point when I was lying next to him in the bathroom we seemed to have a conversation. He told me he was afraid, he didn’t know what was happening to his body. I told him that he wasn’t his body. That he was infinite. That he was peace and love. He said he didn’t want to lose our connection. I told him that we would always be connected. That even when he departs his body, he will still be with me. I felt a tremendous sense of peace. At one point while I was telling him how much I loved him, he blinked at me. I know he knew what I was saying. Then he turned away from me again.

I decided to go and get something to eat, and I felt that he would make his passing and I would find his body dead when I returned home. But Tigger was still breathing when I got home. I hugged him again and told him how much I loved him. It was hard to look at him. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth and his eyes were half open and his body was limp. Oh my god, am I doing the right thing? Tigger, do you want me to take you to the vet? He then tried to hide in the corner.

I left him in the corner of my bathroom and sat down at my computer to collect my thoughts. It was hard for me to watch his body deteriorate. Yet, I can see beyond his body to his spirit. I know that his Spirit is at peace. I know that death is a process you have to do on your own. People can be there, can love you, can talk to you, but you have to do it on your own.

My heart hurts losing Tigger, and I know there’s a part of him that would like to stay with me. My only consolation through this process is the thought of the story of the Little Prince. When it was time for the Little Prince to die his friend wanted to go be with him. The Little Prince told him he couldn’t go, he said, "It will look like I’m suffering, but I’m not. It will look as if I’m dying, but I’m not." He then went on to say that he would be just getting rid of his heavy body. This is what Tigger was doing.

With my human eyes, I may think he’s suffering or sad, but I know he is making his transition in his own timing, in his own way. In the same way, when I was crying over him, he may feel like I’m suffering, yet I know I will be okay, too. We will always be connected. Our attachment to our human bodies is only one level of the relationships we have. There is a spirit connection that can never be broken, even when Tigger decided to leave.

Tigger has been there with me through everything. Through many different moves, through major life changes; through everything. I wanted to be here for him for his transition. And I have been. It would have probably been easier on me to put him to sleep. I would have remembered him as he was before he got sick. But I also feel a tremendous connection and a tremendous love. It was a tremendous gift to be with him as he was getting ready for his transition. I still felt that it would be much easier for him to be among his familiar surroundings and be at home.

I had never been that close to death before. Never seen a body dying right before my eyes, especially that of a loved companion. I don’t have any human children. But Tigger was my child and it was hard to imagine life without him.

"I want to go in there right now and wrap him up and hold him and tell him again how much I love him. I know he knows this. I know he needs his time," I kept repeating to myself. I’m grateful that I was able to shower him with love, especially during his last few days. Tigger gave me unconditional love and for that I will always be blessed.

My only thing to do right now to help him is to know that he is making his transition easily and effortlessly in the comfort of his own home, surrounded by love. Part of my expression of unconditional love for him is to let him die in privacy with his dignity. He couldn’t seem to leave with me around. It was too painful for us both.

As of Sunday morning (Nov 16th) around noon Tigger was still with me. But he was limp, he had urinated on himself and he was tired. Yet he wouldn’t leave. I prayed with him, I told him it was okay, I left him alone. I did everything. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Then I thought I was doing the wrong thing. I thought maybe it wasn’t fair to leave him here to die and that he may need help. I called Chris, a very special person who had shared a special bond with Tigger and I. I told Chris about the situation and asked him if I should take Tigger in to have him put to sleep? Chris said that he would come over and pray with me and Tigger.

Chris and I both prayed over Tigger who was lying on a blanket beside the bed. I kept saying that I loved him while Chris was praying and doing Reiki on him. Then suddenly Chris started crying. "Is he gone?" I asked.Chris nodded. I noticed Tigger had stopped breathing. Within ten minutes of Chris arriving, Tigger made his transition. He just stopped breathing.

I stroked his fur and kissed his face and we cried over him. Talmage, my other cat was on the bed looking over at the process. Tigger died a most beautiful death with his family looking over him, in the comfort of his own home.

I ask myself, "Why didn’t Tigger go when it was just me?" I prayed over him, I did Reiki on him, yet he wouldn’t leave. "Why did he go within ten minutes of Chris being here?" My feeling is that he didn’t want to leave when it was just me there. He wanted to know that I would have support after he was gone. Tigger was a true gentleman that way.

Tigger is deeply missed and deeply loved. But what a beautiful blessing to be there for him and to witness him make his transition. And for him to be so surrounded and supported in love.

After he died, he looked peaceful. He looked beautiful. His eyes were open and he was at peace.

These were my last words to Tigger: "Tigger, my great companion of thirteen years who has always been there for me, I am so glad that I could be here for you during your transition. I will always love you. Thank you for blessing my life and giving me the gift of unconditional love."

That night when I came back to my apartment the pain was unbearable. I wanted him back. I missed him. It was the first night without him in 13 years.

But as I fell asleep in my recliner, I heard him purring. I’ve also experienced the sensation of him jumping on the bed. And one morning I heard him meow. It is his way of showing me that he will always be with me...

© Lisa Hepner
Life Channels Staff Writer
All Rights Reserved

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