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Thursday, February 16, 2012
Cats are said to have nine lives. Humans have one, however, there’s one exception: my Aunt Shirlee. She’s seen more lives in her near-85 years than any cat on God’s green earth.
The other night, I called at her resident’s home to catch up. She pleaded to have, “The good Lord take me home.” I said I honor her wish. She apologized she couldn’t wait any longer for my dreams to come true. She said it was taking too long for my loving man to enter my life. She said she was sorry my writing career didn’t happen while she was still alive. I told her I understood.
Aunt Shirlee fell a few days ago and ended up in the hospital again. This morning in honor of Valentine’s Day, I went to the hospital to see about cheering her up. The moment I walked into her hospital room she said, “Listen, Debbie. This hospital stuff is getting to be old news.”
We talked an hour and a half when she said with a glimmer in her eyes, “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. The nicest nurse visited me this morning at . She turned on a light, just bright enough for me to see her and that clock on the wall. It wasn’t glaring, it was just right. When I asked if she was here to give me more medication, she said she was only here to visit.” I let Aunt Shirlee know that was an odd time for anyone to just pop in for a visit.
Aunt Shirlee explained this was no ordinary nurse. I said, “Oh? Tell me about her.” Aunt Shirlee began describing her special nurse saying, “Well, she had blonde, crinkly, wavy hair to her shoulders. I asked what hours she worked and the nurse explained, she’s here for me 24/7. Whenever I need her, she’ll know. She told me her workplace is immediately outside my door on the right. She said there’s a group of offices and hers is the closest to my room.”
My antenna was on high by now. I let Aunt Shirlee know there were no offices outside her hospital door, only more hospital rooms. She asked me to double-check. I poked my head outside the door, looked down the long corridor and saw only what I’d seen walking to her room upon my visit. Aunt Shirlee’s face was visibly perplexed.
At that moment, a male Hispanic janitor walked in to mop the floor and empty the waste basket. I thanked him for coming in and Aunt Shirlee asked him, “Excuse me, could you please tell me if there are any offices outside my room?” He said, “No, ma’am. There are only more hospital rooms.”
Aunt Shirlee asked with a curious look, “Debbie, who came to my room this morning?” I gently said, “Aunt Shirlee, that was an angel.” Aunt Shirlee paused a moment and then asked, “Why did she come see me?” I explained, “The angel knew you’d been feeling alone and she’s here to let you know whenever you need a friend, she will be here.” Aunt Shirlee replied, “Well, she sure was pretty.”
At that moment, my Aunt Audrey called on Aunt Shirlee’s hospital phone. I knew it was time for me to leave. When her time is finished here on earth, I’ll be at peace, knowing Aunt Shirlee has an angel guiding her home.
Monday, February 13, 2012
In 1895, I stood at the edge of the cliffs, looking 700 feet below to the massive rocks. I watched as the water crashed against the cliff’s base, throwing waves high into the air. At 19 years of age, my pregnancy and life were ending.
In 1995, I was sitting comfortably in a chair during a regressive hypnosis session. I’d gone to learn about troubling parts of my childhood, which prevented me from healing emotionally as an adult. Lisa, the regression therapist, said to go as far back in time as my mind could remember. With eyes closed, I suddenly felt the chair shaking while my feet became unsteady with the movement of the floor. I nervously told Lisa, “We’re having an earthquake!” She instructed me to keep my eyes closed. The Loma Prieta catastrophe of 1989 was still fresh in my mind. The magnitude 7.1 earthquake severely shook the greater Bay Area where I live. My heart began pounding with terror once again.
By now, I was sweating from the panic of the earthquake, while transitioning to the Cliffs of Moher. Lisa asked, “Debbie, what year is it, where are you and what is your age?” I responded robotically, “It’s 1895. I live in
and I’m 19.” Lisa told me to continue my experience. She said she would guide me and I would feel no pain, regardless of what transpired during the regression. Ireland
I began telling Lisa of a previous life as a beautiful, 19-year-old peasant girl with waist-length, brown wavy hair. My parents and I lived in
, on the West side of County Clare . I’d become pregnant by a man of royalty, whom I deeply loved. He was the king of his castle whereas, my parents and I lived in a one-room hut with thatched roof and mud floor. I walked five miles to his fortress to let him know of my pregnancy. His servant opened the door and when I asked to speak with the father of my child, was told he was unavailable. With a tremendous amount of hopelessness, I began walking south toward home. An instinct came over me to look back at the castle. There, in the window of the highest room facing north, I noticed my baby’s father watching as I walked away. Ireland
Lisa asked what I did at this point. With my eyes still closed, I relayed the next phase of my regression. Barefoot, I made the five-mile walk back to my home. My parents were in the field, working the land. I hugged and kissed my pet goats good-bye. With tears, I walked down a narrow dirt path and stood at the Cliffs of Moher.
I let Lisa know I was standing at the edge of the cliff and was about to jump to my death. She said to leave my body before I landed to avoid the pain. I promised I would.
Taking three steps to the edge, I dove forward and began my decent. I noticed the sea gulls flying against the cloudless sky. The warmth of the sun enveloped my sailing body. Just before I landed, I left my body and watched as I crashed onto the rocks. The powerful ocean splashed over my dead body. My long hair splayed across my face and onto the rocks.
Slowly, I began opening my eyes, leaving a tragic loss far behind and bringing myself back to present day. Moving forward in my life, I acquired goats and a host of other animals who’ve provided healing for me. Together, we’ve blessed and released the Cliffs of Moher.