A Four-Legged Farewell

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Best friends come in all shapes and sizes.  Sometimes they have big ears, whiskers.  And a four-legged loss can be just as devastating as a two-legged companion.

Such was the case with Biff, a dog who was memorable in many ways.  When he passed, after a long and colourful life, he was cremated.  And kept.  It was difficult to let go of him, partly because his owner didn’t know how.  A spiritual person, she wanted some kind of memorial service for him, one that honoured him. When she discovered she could have exactly what she wanted, she was ready to scatter his ashes.

A few parts from the ceremony we created together:

Love of life.   Love of every part of the day.  The morning snuggle.  Home-made food.  Getting out in nature and thanking God for another day.  Riding in the convertible in the summer.  Burnt orange sunsets in the autumn.  A good towel-off when it’s wet outside.  Meeting and greeting new and old friends. The rustle of the cheese wrapper.  Dessert after main course.  A brush and massage before bed.   And lots of hugs in between.

All simple things.  But not in the least simple.  I believe fully and sincerely that the best things in life aren’t things.  They are people and moments.   I include you in the “people” category because I know you were (and are) are a very old soul…one of the oldest wisest souls I have ever met.  I thank God for matching us up, and giving me the chance to become a much better person.  I will always be grateful for our time together.

And “Lessons Learned from Biff”:

  • You’ve shown that the people we love don’t need fixing…they are just fine the way they are.
  • And if someone tries to fix us, it’s ok to love them anyway.  But if they push too hard in the areas that are the most critical, it’s o.k. to give them a little nip…just as long as you let them know that they are still loved.
  • You’ve shown that what we do with those we love is not as important as the just being together.
  • That when you welcome people well, they want to come over more often.
  • And that when people don’t have to worry about being judged, they are safer and happier.
  • That when we look back, the simple moments are the ones we treasure the most.
  • You’ve demonstrated that real friends are always faithful and consistent; they love you the same way to your face and your back.
  • That if you get bitten once, it shouldn’t dominate the rest of your life.
  • And that pedigrees and job titles are just bits of paper people need to feel more important, but what they are inside is even more important.
  • That mutts and unanticipated guests may add some unpredictability to life, and that’s a very good thing.
  • And finally, that there is no greater gift than being genuinely appreciated by someone else.

Tara’s Mothering Ceremony

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Historically, the transition into motherhood has not been a rite of passage that was observed in our culture. Elsewhere in the world, many Native cultures have treated pregnancy and childbirth with great ritual. Seen as all part of the human life cycle, women created deliberate circles to welcome mothers-to-be, to honour the emotions they were feeling, and to prepare for the act of giving birth.  The journey into motherhood was seen as life-changing and powerful, full of great reverence and equal fear.

Centuries later, we have drifted miles away from either of these paths.  Baby shower, anyone?

And yet, it’s clear to us today that the threshold into motherhood is a physical, logistical, and emotional journey. That a good transition contains a solid balance of all three.  And that many women want to take that journey intentionally and under their own power.  But not alone.

“The circles of women around us weave invisible nets of love that carry us when we’re weak, and sing with us when we are strong.”  — Sark

That was the case with Tara, who lives intentionally and treats the earth with great kindness.  Her mother, gathered 12 wise women together to share stories about first births, meaningful (and ‘well-meaning’) advice. To celebrate her journey. And to make a solid commitment to be there for her before, during, and after the baby was born.

Tara was wearing her birthing necklace as baby Amelie was born.  And we were all wearing our ‘umbilical cord’ bracelets.

 

Stillborn

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The e-mail came from a colleague in Ontario:  to create and officiate an intimate immediate family ceremony for a stillborn baby.  She wanted help and ideas.  We all raced to our resource libraries and got to work.

Miscarriage, a stillbirth, or complications at birth are equally heart-wrenching.  Before a child is born the parents carry everything inside side of themselves, their anticipation, hopes, dreams…all pictures projected into the future. For both parents (and particularly the mother) a being is present and the seeds of a relationship are sprouting.

When birth and death join hands, most people feel lost, unsure of what to do.  For bereaved parents, honouring the loss is so vital, yet they are often both physically and emotionally drained.

The documentary “Capturing a Short Life” (watch for it on CBC) steps bravely and tenderly into that place we don’t want to go.   It offers:

Few people are aware that in North America every year, tens of thousands of families are having to say goodbye to children they’ve only just met and millions more lose babies to miscarriage or stillbirth.

When a baby dies, it is not only an infant that is lost, but a toddler, a child, a teenager and an adult. An entire life, an entire future, disappears. There will be no first birthdays, no first steps, no first report cards, no first loves.. instead there is an intense, impossible, few moments to say hello and goodbye.

The film features “remembrance photography“, a loving and generous concept from the Now I Lay me Down to Sleep Foundation. Over 7,000 volunteer photographers in 26 countries offer their services to “allow families to honor and cherish their babies, and share the spirits of their lives.” Not every hospital is acquainted with this program, and often initial contact is made by families.

Families play a key role here, especially as the hospital chaplain role withers under budget restraints.  Would-be grandparents, godparents, aunts and uncles are often those who both want and need some form of observance for the healing of those they love.

In this situation, the baby’s grandmother intuitively stepped in, with the intent of surrounding her family with love, giving voice to their sorrow, and marking the tragic close of a life in the making  The final ceremony was a beautiful mix of music, family stories and blessings, and poetry.

(Bless my womb, which has the power to create life and death).

Bless my arms

that would have embraced her.

Bless my hands that would have lifted her.

Bless my heart that grieves.  ~ Starhawk