Processing Loss Through Your Art

I’m so sorry for your loss of family and fur baby, and very glad you are physically OK after the car crash :-/
Three negatives make for a large future positive right?
You are so absolutely right! Writing an eulogy about my dog passing last fall and posting it on FB helped me tremendously in grieving for my lost girl. Adopting the foster dog a few weeks later also helped me in ways I had no idea would be relevant.

Dear Alyson My father always says those we love are immortal through our memory of them. I am sorry for your pain.
hugs
Marianne

Thank you for sharing your light with us Alyson.

Much heart-felt love to you Alyson, as you grieve and surrender to your feelings. You are wise to continue to explore the ways that aid the process. Thank you for your open-hearted sharing.

This is such a needed subject about how we all deal with loss differently. So sorry for your losses and the accident. Yes, things must look up for you now, because that was the “dreaded” comes in threes! A couple of years ago, I had to deal with a loss of my Mom’s closest brother. I just could not go to the hospital to sit with the rest of the family while he was hooked up and not expected to recover. I spent the whole day painting flowers that I had purchased “bunches” just the day before because they were at a rock-bottom must-go sale price… so I had purchased about four or five bunches. Someone knew I would need them, right! That painting was my way of talking to my lost Uncle because he loved my paintings, and was one of my biggest patrons. I was then able to join the family (Mom was one of 10 children) the next day at the hospital to remember him by telling and listening to wonderful stories! Hugs to you and anyone else reading this post that needs one!

Alyson,

Thank you for sharing. I’m truly sorry for your losses.

Your message is timely because I have recently been exploring grief. In the last month I lost a dear and important human friend. Then my wife and I had to make the difficult decision to say goodbye to our kitty.

Your message is part of the healing process for me and for all of us. Your story also brings more tears – which is more healing.

I’ll be keeping you and your family in my thoughts.

Blessings,

Jay

First let me say that I am very sorry for your loss Alyson. Our loved ones are so important to our lives, whether they are immediate family, in-laws, our friends, and yes, even our furry companions and other pets. Having lost my mom and dad in the last 6 years was been very hard to process and still has a hurtful spot in my heart when I cannot call them to say hello and chat about what is happening in our lives.

My wife has been suffering from COPD the last 5 years and added to that, fibrillation and type 2 diabetes brought on by the meds she is taking as well as a major arthritis flareup has been hard on us both, and my desire to create new works of art had failed too.

Yesterday as I was walking into our dining room I looked to the chair where my wife sits for her daily breathing treatments, all of a sudden I had a terrible sense of loss as my imagination took me to a time when she may not be sitting in that chair anymore and be absent from my life. I had such an acute awareness of loss that it made me cherish all the more her being with me still.

Now that I realize how valuable our time together is, I can appreciate the fact that it was she who had inspired me to create art 45 years ago and can be re-inspired to create anew.

Empathy: Feeling another person’s pain in your own heart. So sorry for your losses. Time and unforeseen events befall us all. This month marked the anniversary of my Mother’s passing away along with tragedies among friends and family. A friend lost her daughter in a motorcycle accident this month and we just learned a nephew of my wife has been diagnosed with an aggressive type of cancer.
If our lives were a book we come to different chapters. Chapters close, but the story hasn’t ended. I’ll share this excerpt from my own blog article titled “A Chapter Closed,” after my Mother passed away: ” I recall a time when I was quite young walking along with my Mother. My feet and legs were starting to hurt and I began to protest and wanted to stop and not go any further even though there wasn’t much more distance to travel. She used an illustration to help keep me going. She had me look down the street to a stop sign and told me to imagine that on the other side was the fulfillment of all of God’s promises. The ones she had taught me about. She asked; do you think you can make it that far? I said yes, and so it happened. Such was her way of teaching and in way part of her legacy. I still get sore feet and legs, but I haven’t forgotten those words and I still try to look past the stop signs.”
http://hagermanart.com/blog/a-chapter-closed/

My very sincere condolences. Your newsletter opened up a pot of tears that has been simmering for weeks. Thank you. Time to reenter the studio. I’ve been sidetracked by a new job and the losses.
Been packing up the studio to move but I’ll find a spot to work at. I have lots to say and lots of tears to shed.

Thank you Alyson for sharing your heart with us. I know it is hard and I hope your grieving is comforted by all the friends you have here. You are dearly loved and we all want you to know that. Hugs

Alyson, what a week you’ve had! So sorry for your losses! This post couldn’t be more timely, as my landlady had to put her dog down a week ago today. He and I spent a lot of time together and his loss is acutely felt. Don’t think it’s time yet to express this yet but will do something arty in the near future.

My condolences for your losses. Virtual (((hugs))) all around. I’ve tried to ‘process’ grief (as well as other emotional shifts) in my art and while it was cathartic, confusing, and not meant for public consumption, it’s a part of the healing. I find writing helps best even tho I’m a visual artist. We have to do what we have to do. I feel honored that you shared with us. Blessings for brighter days and peaceful healing to you and your family.

Alyson, I’ve been following you for quite some time. First, let me say: I come to your blog often for tips, insight and wisdom on how to navigate my Art biz. For me, you are a trusted source precisely because you come from the days when the Internet and Social media wasn’t so prevalent in the Art world. You are an exceptional coach in my humble opinion! So, for you to be vulnerable and share your heart with me creates a new level of trust. I’m holding your heart during this tender, transformative time. My personal motto is this: “A broken wing doesn’t mean you can’t fly.” It’s an excerpt from a poem I wrote many years ago. But it keeps me afloat when I need to be reminded. Love and Blessings! ❤️

My condolences on your losses, but congratulations on your wisdom in the way in which you are dealing with them. Our writing, music, art are conduits to our deeper feelings and also serve to vent them.

I turn first to my brushes and paper when I am heart-sore. Pictures are our first language and more immediate, at least for me. After I have processed my hurt visually, I can then put them in words and sometimes a poem will result. Painting and writing are both conversations with ourselves that turn into conversations with others if you put it out there (as you did) for all to see. This engenders self-reflection, feelings of not being so alone, and not so much a lessening of the pain, but an integration of it.

It seems like you have been part of my life, my link to validating my creative self, since forever. I just checked olde emails and though cannot find any since you began starting The Art Biz Coach, since 2006 your support has given so much valued continued strength–in spite of my being a ‘hanger-on’, not myself as a mainstream producing artist–now, in particular, my heart goes out to you.

Since 2002 my work has been with rural Filipino children, introducing them to art, literature, their own creativity, while doggedly hanging on to my own. My husband (22years older) died after 34 years of deeply rewarding marriage, and left me in a foreign country built aboard the sailboat for a home/way of life. I do still love where and how I live (aboard since 1984-here in the Philippines since 1999) but am, still, essentially, alone in more ways than one.

My grieving process has been long and confusing but your connection has been a large part of the healing process. This is what is important to tell you:

You give so very much of yourself, Alyson…so now, so much love is being returned, as you deserve to reap.

I bless and and am eternally grateful for all you have given to me during my own dark hours when I have had nothing to return to you. In those hours, art has healed my soul, piece by piece.

Art is the answer to healing all our wounds and celebrating our humanity.

Please pass on my sincere condolences to your beloved husband in his grief, also. Love is Love, equally precious where ever life form we find or pour ourselves into.

sincerely, much love,
always,
Diane

Dear Alyson,
I am so sorry for your losses. Nurture yourself gently in this time. Thank you for sharing your grief. We lost our gal Luna late in 2015. I am creating in prose and paintings who she’s been with us. Often it is painful and and cathartic even joyful. She was a white shepherd. Our loved ones will remain alive by sharing our beloved memories of them. Blessings to you in this sad time.

My heart feels your pain, Alyson, and I’m so sorry. I hope I can share this little story… we lost our big Goldendoodle, Charlie, two months ago. While we knew he had Canine Lymphoma, it had been in complete remission – until very suddenly it wasn’t. We have always had kids and dogs, and lots of love for all of them; in no way am I comparing losing kids and dogs – but losing this big boy devastated me. Then, not a week had passed, and we were kneeling at the Communion rail at church, in prayer – and suddenly beside me, kissing my cheek and putting her paws on the rail was a lovely big service dog, who had left her master’s side – something she would never do. At first I was laughing and horrified at myself – laughing (to myself) at the Communion rail! Then it quickly became tears; it really was a God thing. The owner was appalled; the congregation, most of whom know us, was almost as touched as we were. It really made a difference, that little moment…and thanks, Alyson, for all you do and who you are.

I am sorry for your losses. There are those times in life where the challenges just keep coming! Four years ago, I taught a workshop the week after my daughter died. Friends who came to the funeral from out of town helped me to prep for the workshop. If I worked in a full time corporate job, I would have had to be back to work at that time, so why should it be any different if I am self employed? I’ve tried to do art around the subject of my daughter’s death but have not been able to. I wrote about her here” http://blog.jacquelinesullivan.com/blog/page/3/

Dear Alyson,
I am sorry for the loss of your dear father-in-law and your beloved Dharma.
Sharing your experience through words, creating art, talks with friends and family, walks outdoors… all can be ways to be kind to yourself as you work through the grief.
In the moments when you feel that the sadness will never end, gently remind yourself there is ebb and flow. As there is with creativity — which you so ably coach us through.
I wish the best to you and yours as you heal from your losses.

I’m so sorry for your losses, Alyson, and I admire your determination to reach out for support from those of us who you’ve helped so much. Death of loved ones is just about the toughest thing we’re called upon to bear and we all deal with it in different ways.
When my beloved cat died you’d have thought i lost a child. One thing that helped was collecting the best photos I had of him and making a little Blurb book to memorialize him. I dealt with some of the grief over a family members alcoholism by journaling about it, then shredding the journal pages and making a set of unbound collaged pages into a book. Art heals. Looking at beautiful art can provide solace and making art can provide a way to get the emotions out.
We are so blessed to be artists!

My condolences on your losses. Loss is always a shock, even when it’s expected. You have to do what feel right for you at the time. There are no right or wrong ways to grieve, just your way.

Art can help immensely. I made the mistake of stopping creating art after my father died. I was 17 and in the middle of A levels (Final school exams). I was doing my art and had struggled with the preparatory work while he was ill. It all seemed so futile. I failed the exam and didn’t try anything for about 4 1/5 years, by then I was “rusty” and lacked the motivation, so my efforts were sporadic and consequently I never felt they were any good. 23 years later, I was struggling with working, young family and a special needs diagnosis on my son. I quit the work I was doing with the intention of returning when things were more settled at home. In that time I started drawing again and realised what a mistake I’d made giving up earlier. Creating art helped me to process all the emotions. It also helped me to face the emotions.

You are brave to say this. We all benefit. I am deepened to read and feel the deep truth of your life that you share unflinchingly. Thank you, AS. I will create a little more bravely today as a result.

Alyson,
I am so sorry for your losses. May the warmth and beauty of spring comfort and heal you.

When my father died I created a whole series of clay sculpture about our relationship which had been difficult. I was a single mom at the time and teaching 24/7 at a boarding school. My studio was in a dark basement. I would go down there and cry while I was working on the art. It helped a lot to turn my sorrow into something visible.

Now with this daunting challenge of ovarian cancer making art has been almost impossible. It’s been as if there was no creative energy left for me because all of my energy was consumed by the disease. Oddly I was much more worried about my complete lack of creativity than about the cancer. Finally in the last three weeks I’ve been able to paint some. It feels like renewal. And according to my last CAT scan a week ago there is no residual disease.

But a HUGE sustaining aspect of the healing process has been the support I have received online. Even if all someone did was click ‘like’ on Facebook it was a connection and acknowledgment. A hug across the cyber world. I’m so grateful.

And if things come in threes which I also pay attention to, then I’m done! In the last two years I’ve had three major surgeries. Both shoulders and the cancer. So now I can get on with the rest of my life!!!

Sending you love, strength and healing as you cope with your sadness.

Hugs to you,
Liza

I’m so sorry for your losses. Several years ago I had both parents, best friend, favorite aunt and uncle all die with 18 months. Working was the only thing I could do to feel better. And, yes, the art I did about it was too soon and will not be for sale, but it helped me to process the losses.

Oh Alyson, I’m so sorry! Why do these losses have to pile on in a short period of time??

Most people, specifically older adults, have experienced a lot of loss in their lives. Death of parents, in-laws, many beloved pets. The loss of my left breast to cancer; the loss of love several times. I am so very very grateful that all of my siblings are still living, and none of us has experienced the loss of a child.

My father died when I was in college; he was 48. I was the oldest child and a Daddy’s girl, but it was complicated and we had unfinished business. His death was extremely hard for me and my grieving lasted a couple of years. My mother was 68, which I used to think was pretty old, but not anymore! We didn’t have unfinished business…the worst part was I just missed her so damn much everyday, and still do…it was 20 years this month. We mark these anniversaries.

What I have learned is that every loss makes us stronger, and presumably better equipped to handle the next. It is so so sad, but yes, there are daffodils still; parents die but new generations of babies are born. Not so easy to be philosophical when it happens!

My art has been one of the few constants in my life. Change is guaranteed…people and pets die; you have to leave and move on from homes, friends, lovers, jobs and places; you get older and feel like the same person inside but can no longer recognize your own body. I’ve been making art the whole time, sometimes expressly to deal with loss, like portraits I have done of both of my parents, but mostly not. My art tells the story of my journey and leaves tangible proof that I was here on earth.

Big cyber-hug for you Alyson! It gets easier.
XO Cynthia

I totally get it. I’ve always used creating art – either painting or writing – to process grief of different types, recent or distant. It helps you move on and pushes your art forward too.

Keep a green tree in your heart and the singing bird will come. Author unknown.

Virtual hugs. We have all been where you are – and words often do not take the right shape. Journaling is an excellent tool, and mnemonic device. Know you are buoyed up by us all – near and far.

Cardinals. They always show up just when I least expect them and most need them.
Love, Gwen

Hi Alyson
I am sorry to hear of your loss. One cannot time such happenings and losses in ones life…… and one just has to allow oneself to feel the pain and accept the situation that you don’t have any control on. I have had my share of losses- of a child, parents and a very loving husband……..each and every time my journal and my art has helped me to release my emotions and immerse myself in another world.
May you have the strength to bear the losses and May your father- in -law’s soul Rest In Peace.
Nimi

Thank you for your post.

I am a sound artist (aka musician, specifically a professional flutist), so not the typical audience for the blog, yet I find many of the posts can be transferred to my work in the professional music world.

In September 2015, I miscarried my second child, Robert Jerome, at 18 weeks and 1 day. Pouring myself into projects has kept me sane in the year and a half since RJ’s passing. In May, I will be recording an album of music that has been my particular expression of the emotions I have experienced around the loss of my son. It has been an incredibly powerful, healing process.

Hi, Alyson:

I’m sorry you’ve had a week that gives you such sorrow. I love, however, that the little beauties of life can still catch your attention. That seems to be the way I’ve lived my life too – so that a chickadee’s song can lift a mood.

I retired from 50 years of office work at the end of December and settled myself to enjoying painting. That May, our oldest son was diagnosed with a rare liver cancer, and he died last September. I had started selling prints and paintings at our largest local farmers market, and my son said,the day before he died, “Don’t stop going, Mom; you need the distraction.” So I kept right on going.

In January, it must have been delayed stress which literally and figurately caused my intestinal fortitude to fail. I’ve taken three months off, partly to get my physical health back on track, and partly to process his loss. I even stopped painting for two months, but I’m getting back to it, and am feeling better.

Thanks for your posts and the valuable ideas you offer. I really appreciate them.

Sending love.

Barb Holmes
Barbara Pottie Holmes Art

Dear Alyson,

My heartfelt thoughts for you, your husband and family after the loss of your father-in-law, and your Dharma. How are you from your car accident? I know you may be shaken, but hope you are physically alright.

Alyson, I’ve received your newsletter since 2005? And it was a grounding for me within a reality that was well…My Beloved of 20 years was fighting gallantly an illness that ultimately took her life in 2007. This past week I marked the 10th year of her leaving this dimension. And am completing her portrait for her birthday next month. I could not bear to begin it until now. It does take time for the pain to change enough to look/see again.

Time, I found changes. There is the time/life before and the after time as I had to create new bearings in this life. And the painting? Yes, it has helped me, supported me, creating a space for my tears, and pain.

So, what has helped? In the beginning simply breathing…in…out…and drinking water definitely helped as well as gentle massage from a safe, and gentle massage therapist. Others have said this, and it is saying “no” to anything that feels overwhelming or that you simply do not want to do right now.

Thank you for being who you are to our community, and for reaching out now and letting us know what your going through, sending you a warm hug, Peace to you dear Alyson.

Magdalena

I so feel your pain and understand your need to work. My husband went through a series of health issues a while back, some of which were very serious & scary. I needed to work, yet I could not focus enough to work in my typical realism. That was a breakthrough point for me as I ventured into abstraction. I had no preconceived ideas, I just needed to be getting paint on the canvas. I worked until I felt the pieces were visually complete. Then I stepped back and immediately realized what the imagery meant. I was somewhat stunned. This continued for close to a year. Piece after piece, just painted from the gut, yet I could tell you what each image meant AFTER it was complete. It was healing and helped me through a difficult time.

Sending love and comfort to all who grieve. While my husband was in the hospital battling cancer in November, our 42-year-old son died, leaving behind a loving wife and 6-year-old son. She sent a photo last night of a drawing the little boy had done at a children’s museum given the prompt “What does bravery look like to you?” He wrote “Living in somebodies <3" and then drew a picture of him and his Mom before a dark slab that he said was "The door to I-don't-know." Both figures were smiling. XOXOXOXOXO

Dear Alyson, Peace and healing to you and your husband and your family. Thank you for sharing your story. I have lost both parents as well as beloved four-leggeds, and I am deeply grateful to share that they visit me in my dreams, so I have a chance to give them a hug. It’s not virtual, it’s real. I am blessed.

Kate

Alyson, I join the many other artists who are sending love and comfort to you, and hope that you find lots of uplifting signs along your way to recovering. I have found that in the most difficult of times, somehow the Universe lets you know you are being supported – whether it’s a white feather in a strange place, or a song on the radio that has special meaning…
I also want to thank you for your dedication to the weekly email which I value immensely, and which has seen me through 3 major losses. Please take extra care of yourself after all these shocks you have had.

And while you honour your grief, keep noticing those “daffodil” moments. They will be there for you.

Alyson, I recently went through a week where I had to process “layers of grief” along with just regular life. I wrote about it here http://dashboardhula.blogspot.com/ Your letter reminded me once again that we are never alone. That there are people who can sympathize with us, but there are also people who truly understand because they have had similar experiences.

Congratulations on your writing anniversary. You are an inspiration!

If you live long enough, you’re going to lose someone important to you. My sympathies go out to you and your family. Thanks for sharing your grief with us.

Last week, dear ol’ FB reminded me of the 3rd anniversary of the death of my soul mate cat Olivia. This sent me crying again over her loss.
I send you and your husband hugs and light to see your way through the grief process.

Alyson, thank you so much for sharing with us- thank you letting us respond- Reading these posts, I feel so privileged to be part of this community. Yes, Roz, let’s all remember the daffodil moments- What a gift that daffodil was to you, Alyson! I hope you plan to do something with it, make paper or use it some way as a remembrance of both Dharma and John. We lost our son, Zach, (by his own hand) a year and a half ago. I have collected all the flowers from his funeral, each blossom as it faded, and this summer I will make paper with them (and with the old yukky T-shirt he liked to wear). I think I should write letters on the paper to family members stating how important they are to me.
My heart goes out to all of you who have written responses confessing that, after losing someone dear to you, you can’t seem to get back to making art. I know! Back in September of 2015 I had agreed to have a show in April of 2016 but after Zach left us a month later I felt like art died, too. I told the folks at the venue that I just couldn’t. They gently encouraged me to make just four pieces and if by February, for a show that was to open April 1st, no less, they would ask someone else to take my place. I am still overwhelmed by that kindness. There was no pressure to produce so I approached my art stuff with no intention of making anything for anyone else to see. I already had two finished for the show so all I really needed was two more. Maybe I could do two more pieces and if not, I was off the hook- but by show opening I had more art than they could fit on the walls. They even let me show my “Second Advent Angel”, a polymer clay sculpture I had poured my grief into during that first Christmas season. Making was more than cathartic for me- it helped me to articulate visually the confusion and turmoil I felt, to define it bit by bit. I called the show, “New Realities”. Nothing sold, which was a relief- I wanted to give them to family members. If you would like to see the most meaningful pieces with my comments I have posted them in my blog: http://www.donabarnett.com/blog Some people have written to me saying they felt a little comforted after their own losses. Maybe it will be a gentle hug for you, too.

On my dad’s birthday, March 29th, I woke from a dream where I saw him clearly out a window, but when I went to greet him, he wasn’t there. I curled into a ball in the grass and cried in my dream! He died of Alzheimer’s last September, after 5 years or more of struggle. The dream felt like the first time I’d really grieved, as it was such a long downhill battle and relief when he passed. Thanks for sharing your grieving processes and daffodil moments!

Alyson. I was referred to your blog by Rob Domaschuk simply as a resource to begin thinking about selling some of my paintings. I read this post as my first contact with you and I am undone. Partly by your post and partly by others response. On Christmas Eve day 2015, my sone died of complications from Cancer. It has been an inordinately difficult process and my reaction now assures me that it is far from over. I am not a prolific painter and have a very controlled style, so the free form expressiveness which I love in others people’s work isn’t available to me. However, your blog and Dona Barnett’s response in particular, I looked again at my paintings since Mark’s death…. a couple of sunsets, (not unusual at such times) one of which he requested, a bleeding lily (perhaps a little trite), a wave about to obliterate the ‘sun’, (I just “corrected” that from son) a series of shells, (which I only later remembered are symbols of birth and rebirth, death and Resurection) and recently, two whales as spirit beings, one a watcher and one a power, as I look at them now, I realize that Watcher has a somehow shocked look and Power, it was pointed out to me, looks very angry. So consciously or not art surfaces our feelings and helps us heal. I did not expect this when I clicked on your blog this morning. Gifts come from the most unexpected sources.

Alyson, I am sorry to hear about your triple loss in one week. Any one of the three would be hard to bear, but all three at once? And I very much appreciate your blog article and the power of art to work through pain.

Alyson, you’ve been there for me when I’ve hit the wall (literally, as you know). My boyfriend was injured that night too. We both just went to a yoga class today and it was not as impossible and painful as it would have been 5 months ago….and I wish I’d known that so much would heal…even as so much remains to heal. Things will get easier, especially for those of us who love daffodils. I painted a few this very week, and I felt unimaginable joy at doing so. Wow, life can be so intense. But it’s the sharing of and appreciation of the gifts that makes it bearable. And you do that so well.

Grief- comes in waves and can swallow you. I read your weekly newsletter. Be kind to yourself and thank you for sharing all that you have over these years. 700+ new letters is an accomplishment and I find them a weekly arrow pointing me forward in what is now starting to look like a plan. I am attempting to find my art path again after 30+ yrs working and raising a family. My condolences to you family and the loss of you cat.

Grief is definitely a deeply personal process. No one handles it the same way. Some don’t handle it at all, until much later, it bursts out of them unintentionally. I too, had 3 losses in 2014. Six months apart, I lost my Father, then my Mother, then my beloved dog….shock after shock after shock is what it felt like. I was in so much emotional pain, I didn’t know what to do with it all. After my Father died, I didn’t paint for about a month (previously almost every day). Then gradually I started again. After my Mother died, it was only a few weeks after we got home from dealing with the estate (took about a month!) I started to paint and felt so much comfort from her, I thought. When cleaning out her belongings, I found 2 paintings she had started many years before. I took them out and finished them for her. I felt so much love around me while doing that! I was still somewhat in shock, very disoriented and could not concentrate except while painting. I never knew what this much pain felt like. Until, that is, my beloved dog Simon passed away unexpectedly, six months after my Mom died. Again, the shock and pain I felt was UN bearable….took me about 3 months to paint again. I painted his portrait. I still grieve, still cry, still get a pain in my heart when I see his grave in the yard. But he visits me in my dreams, and loves me as much in my sleep as he did in life. My parents also visit in my dreams from time to time. Puzzling dreams, just still trying to figure it out, figure them out. So, re-reading this post, I am starting to cry. I guess I’ve said all I can say. Thank you for this blog post. Peace.

Warm thoughts to you. Life can be so tough, rough, and raw…and then there is a daffodil, hope for what can be.

Sacred Pets Contracts Go on Well Beyond This Lifetime …
Our beloved pets are so much more than just furry little friends. The bond we share with them is deep and profound. Their unconditional love and lack of ego, enables our relationship with them to often run deeper than that of our human loved ones and friends. While we spend countless time caring for their physical needs, they are continually soothing our souls and transmuting the stress of our daily lives.
The “sacred contracts” we have with our beloved pet companions, are some of the most significant relationships we experience in our lives. When we take a closer look at these contracts we can see that in many ways we are each other’s spiritual caretakers. It is said that our pet’s soul has been drawn to us in order to benefit from our level of consciousness. Yet, in truth, we have much to learn from our animal friends. These pets are at times referred to as “familiars”… representing a deep soul connection beyond measure.

Unfortunately through the normal course of life, most of us at some point will experience the loss of our beloved fur babies. And it has been said that the loss of a pet is as significant to the pet owner as … http://wisdomoftheangels.com/2017/03/sacred-pet-contracts-the-connections-go-on-well-beyond-this-lifetime/

Dear Alyson,
Sending you love, energy, and light for your journey, as we remain behind.. and for John and Dharma, as they travel into their new spirit journeys. Sending an Irish blessing to warm welcomes as they arrived Home..
I believe it is hardest on those of us, still incarnated here on the Earth’s plane, as our senses are somewhat more limited, and we live in cultures that do not encourage us to be open to all that is still “undiscovered” and not yet fully understood in our times..
Having experienced loss of cherished ones (as so many people have) my contribution would be to invite people to be open to the isolated goosebumps sensations, and to the unexpected sparks and embers of light that you may see in your periphery, or even directly in front of you.. it may even have color, and movement. In the case of my late grandfather, some 30 yrs ago, we could all smell his Old Spice, as he passed us in the room to stand by his beloved, my grandmother. Unlike perfume, it only lingered in the air for the moment that he was passing us (we being his daughter and grand daughter). It is one way for them to say that they are only an arm’s length distance away from you.. when you are thinking of them.. it is their way to say, I “hear” you, and I’m right here with you!! They are able to affect so many of our senses, if we are open to the connections, I guess!!
I agree with others.. missing them never goes away; it lessens its sensation over time.. I miss the human touch that we had as one human to another, before they passed.. but find some serenity in finding their energy visible in some of my photography, as round energy spheres! (The best time is at dusk, using natural lighting on the camera.)
So big hugs go out to you Alyson, and to your family, in this time.. you are supported emotionally in making your needs for you and your family first!
Best to you,
Maggie

Sending warm thoughts of how vulnerablility draws us closer, even with virtual friends. I am sorry for the loss of your father-in-law and of your furry friend.
Love, Kristen

I’m suspecting that there would be a few people (and among your “listeners” probably very few) that if you were just talking about your kitty Dharma, would be less sympathetic. Yet, it might easily have been the greater loss (though obviously not for you). I lost my best girlfriend Jane cat 4 years ago and I am still grieving.