In Repose Blog

The White Rose

When you see a white rose pinned to the door of a room on the maternity ward of a hospital, it means the mother's child has either been born still or died shortly after birth. Sometimes the parents and family are inside the room, holding and loving their child, or children, and are waiting for the last breath to be be taken.
Some rooms are filled to capacity with family and friends. Some, only the mother perhaps. Some rooms, only the child. The rooms can be hushed and reverent or filled with loud emotion, occasionally both.

Every room, however, has the grace and presence of a multitude of angels. They are there for the baby, the family and they are there for me too.

Some OBE Numbers from William Buhlman

Based on more than 16,000 responses to a survey conducted by William Buhlman, author and seriously experienced OBE'er.

         Average Age of First Out-of-Body Experience

The average age group is 4-12 years old.  This is often a repeated experience that declines during the early teen-age years.

Average Number of Out-of-body Experiences Reported per Person

1 - 36%

2-5 - 41%

6-19 - 13%

20-100 - 3%
Over 100 - 7%

I probably fall into the upper end of that 3% catagory myself.

William just posted the most fascinating newsletter to his yahoo group. When its posted somewhere publicly I will post a link to it here on In Repose.

In this April 2009 article he talks about a particular astral plane he has visited so many times where many discarnate spirits reside. Basically its a place where people who have died, but who have not moved on spiritually, and who create with others, a virtual replication of physical earth, complete with all of our own 3D earthly limitations.

The only thing sadder are those entities who think nothing at all exists beyond death, as that is exactly the reality they create for themselves!

When Your Time is Up...its UP.

How do you know when its "really" your time? Here's a recent news story from Ynetnews.com.

An Israeli man died after falling from a medivac helicopter that was flying him to a hospital. He and friends had been picnicking in a minefield. Yeah, you read correctly. There were posted signs near this field located near the northern Israeli city of Beit She'an, but the group of three ignored them and went in to have a nice lunch.

A death wish right there, it seems.

Alaa Agabriya, 24, walked in and apparently rather than nosh on a nice sandwich, managed to blow off one of his feet.

Oops.

The medivac helicopter crew who came to his rescue swears they strapped him inside properly, but somehow, he slipped (oops number two) and plummeted to the ground.

He later died of his injuries.

Good News for SHCs

According to the director of ParaScience International Larry Arnold and those who suffer SHC (Spontaneous Human Combustion) of over the 500 documented cases of humans who have been consumed by internal fire, the phenomenon seems to be remarkably painless.

Good to know.

For more information see Arnold's book Ablaze.  Cases from infants burning up in their cribs, to a 114 year old holy man in India are highlighted. There is even one case of a man who apparently aborted his SHC, when the internal flame began deep within his arm near the bone, and was subsequently put out. The best theory at the moment indicates the fire is electrical in nature.

And we all know our body IS electric.

Below is a photo of the remains of Doctor John Bently, December 5, 1966. To cremate a body to a pile of ash like this, it takes 2000 degrees and two hours in a crematorium...and even then there are bone fragments left over. There were no such fragments found here, and his aluminum walker did not melt, nor did the paint blister at the top of the bathroom ceiling.

Dannion Brinkley and the Twilight Brigade

Dannion Brinkley is an interesting fellow. He has had three NDEs (near death experiences) in his life. Twice he was struck by lightning and the third time during a heart operation in the hospital. It took the third experience for him to accept all of the implications. He says he has great compasion for those who believe that nothing exists after death, because he himself was a staunch atheist until after his the third NDE experience.

Self-deprecating and unflinchingly honest, he describes himself as a former "bully" selfish in all ways and just plain mean.He is making up for his former transgressions.

Author of several books, including Secrets of the Light, he is also the founder of the The Twilight Brigade, a volunteer service with the following description:

Twilight Brigade's trained corps of volunteers visit patients in Veterans' Hospitals, Nursing Homes, Hospitals and Hospice facilities. Based upon patient requests and needs, the volunteers provide:

• Reassurance and human companionship to the dying. 
  

• Relief and support to loved ones and caregivers. 

• Compassionate 24-hour attention through the last hours, allowing people to die in peace and with dignity.

All provided at no cost for services to either the patient or the family.

Here is a short less than three minute youtube interview with this down-to-earth man who had dedicated his life to helping others, especially veterans, stop having fear about the death experience:

Farewell Sweet Dante

He was our last little ratty boy. He was over three years old. In human years, that made him about 100. Many rats die of old age at a mere two years. Over the years we have had seven fancy rat pets. Dante was the oldest of them all.

He'd been alone in the grotto since  Cielo  died a few months ago. I took him out most mornings and put him in my lap while I drank coffee and checked email. I would give him a grape or a nut for his own breakfast. He was such a sweet little boy who gave many rat kisses and cuddles.

His health had always been robust until a few days ago. I wrestled a little bit about the option of taking him to the vet, but I didn't in the end. I didn't want his, and our last memory to be of a cold silver table and a needle piercing his heart. He was not in pain, and I actually had some ratty pain meds in my fridge just in case.

I basically held him and stayed with him since last Friday. Lauren took turns too. Each night when I put him in the grotto I truthfully expected to find him still and cold the next morning. Even this morning, I did not find him that way. Somehow he was still moving around,and I amazingly found him standing on his hind legs attempting to climb into his favorite hammock.  I put him on the hammock and went to make coffee. I was surprised he was still alive as he had refused food or water and had been getting so much weaker.

I was going to then get dressed and hold him after other chores when I decided not to wait. I took him to the sink and used warm water to wash his eyes and nose and groom his little head with a soft paper towel. I wrapped him in a fuzzy cloth and carried him with me as even in my nightclothes I gave hay to my horses and fed the dogs and the cats. I just finshed those chores when I sat down to re-wrap the little boy's blanket. He grabbed my finger gently,then groomed his eyes twice. He looked at me and then really stretched his whole body long, and gave a great big yawn.  He looked at me one more time and sighed. I held my hand over him and felt the shimmering of his soul detaching.

He was gone.

Dante managed to do just what his brother Cielo did, which was hang on overnight and wait to be with me during his transition over to the next world.

I had asked the angels for this gift for both of us.

Thank you Archangels Raphael and Azrael.

Cielo's Gift

When the boys were babies and then growing up, I felt like I knew Cielo the least. He was the "scardy-rat" of the bunch, and would startle the easiest and hide a lot if the activity level or the tumbling games of his rambunctious brothers got to be too much for him. Lauren and I thought that made him the cutest in a way because he was the biggest of them all, but the least brave. He had the biggest ears too, and really to us looked like a teddy bear.

I spent the most time with Lennon with his tumor surgeries...and Dante, because those two were like peas in a pod and were the most brave and happiest to leave their grotto and explore the "big house". We had lots of time with Angelo, too, our quick little "thief" with his wonky teeth, we had many trips to the vet for trims and spent countless hours in the car and waiting room.

But until Cielo's stroke in May, I spent the least time with him and felt like I knew him least of the four boys.  Well, he took care of THAT little detail, didn't he? After his stroke he stopped being timid and he spent a lot of time out of the grotto and in the company of the rest of the family of cats and dogs and people, usually carried about in a wicker basket.

My days lately have been structured around his care, which has been hospice for so long it almost seemed like a normal way to live. The last visit to the vet for a tooth trim (he had been avoiding hard foods for a while now) I was afraid Dr. Buddy would try to talk me into putting him down. He didn't. I told him more than anything in the world I wanted this rat to decide for himself when it was time to leave his body, and with any luck at all I would be holding him at the time. Dr. Buddy said he understood.

We both agreed he was not in pain and as long as I was willing to care for him as I was and he was willing to keep living, we could keep going. As a matter of fact he said Cielo's weight was fine, he was not too skinny and gave me some eye ointment for a little scratch that said to use for two weeks. I actually did laugh at those instructions. "He doesn't have two weeks to live!"  But look how long he had beaten the odds since May?  Who knew how much longer he would stick around?

I fed him a nice dinner last night of mashed avocado, some organic turkey vegetable baby food, wheat bread and red grapes. He had been getting tired while eating and soon he fell asleep with a piece of grape in his mouth. I took it out and put him in the grotto with Dante and covered him up with a fuzzy little piece of blanket.

Every morning for months now, the first thing I have done when I woke up would be to head for the grotto. When I would open the door I would hold my breath for a moment to see if Cielo would still be warm and breathing. He was indeed still breathing this morning, but he wasn't very warm. I knew right away, today would be different. His eyes weren't moist and he wasn't blinking either. He was dying.

I wrapped him up in his little piece of sheepskin and held him close, saying prayers over him. (As I had at least three times this past summer.)  But this time I knew it was finally the end. I couldn't feel his heartbeat at all and his breathing was very shallow. I closed his eyes and wiped the tears from mine, and stroked his stiff old body and told him it was Ok to go.

I gave him a kiss on top of his little head and told him how much I loved him, and how glad I was that he had been in our lives. At that moment he took one final deep breath and then died. I had been praying for a long while for exactly this gift. I really believe Cielo hung on overnight to wait to die in my arms this morning.

Did I mention "Cielo" means cloud, or heaven in Italian? It was a good name for him. It fit him so well. He had a grand life and he was well loved and was gently cared for until his very last moment.

We should all be so lucky.

"I Don't Know What to Say."

Bet you've heard that one before.

One of the driving forces that keeps me writing for In Repose is the memory of other people's reactions after my brother's death. I used to think that one day I might write a book titled the way this post is titled. That was long before blogs existed.

I lost people who I thought were my friends during the time my family was grieving. My relationship with my real friends deepened. There really are things one should say, and things one should not say.

One of the very best pieces of writing I have ever read on the subject, and I have read a lot, was a recent blog article written by Carrie Stuckmann at Candid Carrie. Want to know what to say? What NOT to say? What to offer to do? What means the most to a person sick with grief? Carrie's article is the most heartfelt, concise and helpful information I have ever come across. If nothing else, bookmark this link and read it later. You WILL need to read it, because someday soon, someone you love will lose someone THEY love, and then you WILL indeed, know what to say.

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

I am most pleased to announce that my application to volunteer for the organization, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, was approved yesterday.

Those of you who know me well, know that I had two high risk pregnancies.  I spent many months hospitalized, bedridden and terrified. Twice. At one point when I was 26 weeks along with my son, I thought we both were going to die. In the end, I gave birth to two completely normal children, at 37 and 36 weeks gestation. These experiences changed my life. They have also left me beyond grateful. My children were born perfectly healthy and normal. They are both beautiful and kind and accomplished, intelligent young adults.

What more could a parent want?

I have decided I am in a unique position to offer my photographic services to others not as fortunate.

     This nationwide non-profit organization that  aims to help parents who lose babies in early infancy has expanded its services.  In order to help families heal, Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep provides parents with heirloom photographs and DVDs of their infants free of charge. NILMDTS cofounders Cheryl Haggard and Sandy “Sam” Puc’ want families across the country to know that there are now 2000 photographers nationwide willing to volunteer their services, and that number is growing each week.

     Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep (NILMDTS) was founded after Cheryl and her husband Mike made the heartbreaking decision to take their six-day-old son, Maddux, off of life support on Feb. 10, 2005.  Knowing they wanted to remember their baby through photographs, Mike called Sandy’s company, Expressions Photography, after seeing her portraits of babies displayed at Presbyterian/St. Luke’s Hospital in Denver.  Sandy and her staff gently accommodated the Haggards’ request that photos be taken both before and after baby Maddux’s respirator was removed.  The remarkably distinctive photographs and extraordinary DVD set to music created by Sandy filled Cheryl with a sense of peace and pride.  Almost immediately, she knew she wanted to help provide other grieving parents with the same types of precious memories that are helping her heal.  The experience proved to be a profound one for Sandy as well.  She and Cheryl co-founded NILMDTS on April 8, 2005, exactly one month before Mother’s Day.

      “The purpose of Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep is to connect families experiencing an early infant loss with photographers throughout the nation,” said Cheryl.  “Calling a photographer to take pictures of a dying baby is the last thing most parents think of during such a traumatic and confusing time.  Since Maddux was our fourth child, we knew we wanted to remember him through photographs.”

     “Having those precious photos and DVD brought us a sense of closure,” she added.  “This organization comes from our hearts and our experiences, in the hope that other families will find a shorter path through heartache to healing.”

     Sandy said photographers from all over the nation, and several from other countries, are volunteering their services because they understand the power of the memories they create.

     “When there’s a hurricane or a fire, what is the one thing besides their children that people try to save?” she asked.  “Their photos.”

     “When a family loses a baby, their bodies and their minds are in shock.  They can barely remember the experience.  But with these photos, they can go back and really look at their babies--their faces, their hands, their toes.  They can see who the baby looks like.  It takes away some of the pain.”

     “Photographers who have taken pictures of these babies tell us it’s the hardest, most difficult thing they’ve ever done,” she added.  “Yet when they turn those images over to the families, they are never more proud.  Those images will last forever.”

      NILMDTS volunteer photographers will visit interested parents at any hospital in the photographer’s general vicinity (listed on the web site), providing a printable CD file of the images, plus a DVD set to music, free of charge.  Tax-deductible donations may be sent to Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, 1153 Bergen Parkway, #M103, Evergreen, CO 80439. 

 Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Francie is Dying.

Outside, right now in the chicken "hospital coop"

Francie has been sick for a few days and I have been washing her, medicating her and trying my best to take care of her. Yesterday she was walking around and pecking normally. This morning, well, she hasn't really moved at all. She tried, and she fell down and there she stays.

I keep checking on her, certainly, she will be dead very soon.

Its sad.

One interesting thing has been watching the other animals. They have been gathering around her. First the horses came. The big paint gelding came first. The grey mare came and blinked too, but did not come as close. The dun filly came with the donkey and watched her for a long while. The filly left and the donkey stayed even longer.

When they left the dogs came and wandered around the coop for a while.

When the dogs went to the porch the cats came next and laid calmly facing her.

The chickens came after that and the cats followed me inside when I went to get the camera.

The small brown lump on the left is Francie. The black and white pollish chicken in the middle is Sophia and she is still, as I type this, pacing back and forth in front of the hospital coop watching Francie. The other brown chicken is Blanche, Francie's sister. (Unfortunately as I took this photo I saw signs that Blanche too, may also be ill.)

All morning I have considered the idea of wringing Francie's neck...putting her out of her misery. Would that be the kindest thing to do for her? Is she, in fact, miserable? Who knows? I know she is weak. I know she appears peaceful.

What I also know is I got to watch a well ordered, well timed procession of 12 different animals come to Francie and take note of her presence and of her dying. Animals know death. They can smell it coming. Did they come to say good-bye?

I think they did.

I pet Francie's soft feathers and thanked her for all the sage green eggs she gave our family. I said good-bye too.