I’m working on this blog and looking at the email notices that pops up showing me what I’m missing if I just stop what I’m doing and read them.
Roxie just stopped by to say hi. She’s a Blue Healer, well trained and well behaved. Elsa is in her cage looking relaxed while the other three birds perched in their cages looking hungry and bored. Sounds of alarm clocks alerting the other children it’s time to get up is echoing down the hallway.
I’m at work now and a dear friend of mine’s picture of her is encased in a plexiglass cover and an article tells us that her spiritual journey began Monday. It was very sudden, and she was young relatively speaking. Her name was Red Autumn Eagle-Bear. She was a very vivacious woman with long raven colored hair, and she was going to be a grandma for the first time.
Life is generally fickle. It is how you live your life that matters most.
Death is always sudden and final, though all believe that somehow our spirit will continue long after our earthly body has decomposed and gone.
I was four when I first saw death. A dog was run over by a car. The driver was remorseful, pouring out apologies to the father while the mother openly wept and the young boy who I guessed was at least five years older than me had a determined face and a shovel. He walked across the vacant field across the street from the house where they lived and began digging a grave for the black lab that laid dead on the street.
I have seen it many times after that: when my own dog Herman was poisoned, another neighbor’s young pup many years later was run over by a cement truck, seeing my mother after her fatal car accident and little Bobby the cockatiel that we lost last year.
I actually liked the way this person described how Red Autumn left us; a journey as if leaving for a trip far, far away. There was no mention of a destination. The concept of heaven or hell was not mentioned. She just began her spiritual journey where me and everyone else will eventually join her on our own spiritual journey.
Jerry Schellhammer 