Crossing Over

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The last year has been one of many losses for me.
My father and my grad school mentor died, followed by two of my feline children, Christopher and Gabe. Both were rescues.
Gabe and I fought a fierce battle against his congenital PKD (polycystic kidney disease), after his acute renal failure, with daily “hydration” and assorted meds and supplements. That won my dear boy six extra months of life beyond the two that the vet had predicted.
Through it all, Gabe was the very soul of patience and stoicism. He never complained but remained his loving self. He didn’t want to go even at the end, when he could no longer walk. He so wanted to stay….

It’s been more than 3 months since I lost Gabe. Only now can I write about him without falling to pieces.
Of all of humanity’s challenges and difficulties, death — of our loved ones and of ourselves — is the most daunting.
I had found comfort in the words of J.R.R. Tolkien in Lord of the Rings:

“End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. There’s another path; one that we all must take. The gray rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and it will change to silver glass, and then you see it—white shores; and beyond them, a far green country under a swift sunrise.” 

But what follows is even better. This is the most beautiful explanation of Death I’ve seen.

A sick man turned to his doctor as he was preparing to leave the examination room and said, “Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side.”

Very quietly, the doctor said, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You’re a Christian man, and don’t know what’s on the other side?”

The doctor was holding the handle of the door. On the other side came a sound of scratching and whining, and as he opened the door, a dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness.

Turning to the patient, the doctor said, “Did you notice my dog? He’s never been in this room before. He didn’t know what was inside. He knew nothing except that his master was here, and when the door opened, he sprang in without fear.

I know little of what is on the other side of death. But I do know one thing…. I know my Master is there and that’s enough.”

H/t beloved fellow Joseph and my dear friend Bill.

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0 responses to “Crossing Over

  1. There is a wonderful moral to this story. Believe.

    • You’re right, Tina, there is.
      I know it every time I look at my two Poms, Ted E Bear and Da’kota Bear and they both look back deeply intentful, in their different ways. I know it when a human friend of mine –complaining of his life and lack– and my ‘kota Bear, who is usually very shy of men, comes and insistently snuggles on him– until the friend jollies up at last!
      I know it when Ted E Bear, who will be 15 this November, has a bad hip/leg day: he’ll sit at the bottom of the steps until someone comes along to help him, and never yell for help. But if he doesn’t get his two frozen smelts a day, then you’ll hear about it!!
      I know it because there is a God, and then angels, and then Poms, and then us….

      • joseph-I had a Pom for 15yrs,that did the same exact thing as Ted.E.Bear!! He was my baby. They are such a joy. You have to know them to love them. He is waiting for me,without a doubt.

  2. lowtechgrannie

    Thank you for a lovely story of heaven where we’ll be with our saviour, beloved family members, friends and pets and be with them through eternity!

  3. Thanks Joseph, Bill, and Eowyn. I always called my furry children my angels sent from God, my living reminders of God’s love for me. I miss them, still.

  4. Loved this message. thanks.

  5. Says it all.


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