Eclipse

I went to a funeral on Monday.  The deceased was a lovely woman I have known for almost thirty years.  I am friends with her parents.  I watched her grow into womanhood, get married, have children and a grandchild.

She was one of those people who lit up a room.  She was a respiratory therapist, and all of her patients loved her.  I found it ironic that her funeral took place during the solar eclipse.  It felt like even the Sun mourned her passing on to the next plane, and the Moon wanted to pay her tribute.

I am left with that sadness that is grief.  The place where the love lived that now has to be directed somehow.  And my grief is minuscule compared to the grief her family feels.

At the funeral, I found myself thinking about who I am, and what I will leave behind me when I go.  I don't want anyone to be incapacitated with grief, but I want to be remembered with love.

How then do we go about life to ensure that we will be remembered with love when we are no longer here?  The more I thought about it, the more it distilled into a very few actions.

Be kind.  Relentlessly, tirelessly kind.  Choosing to be kind elevates you and everyone around you.  It can be easy to get caught up in all sorts of things, and to believe that people need to deserve your kindness.  They don't.  Kindness is a gift freely given that builds up the giver at every exchange.  Your kindness may be the turning point in someone's day, or in someone's life.  Be kind.

Listen to people.  Everyone has a story, and everyone likes to be heard.  Listen to people so that they know they matter to you.  Some people may say things you don't agree with, and if the relationship is such that you can discuss why you disagree, go ahead, but make sure that everyone you disagree with knows that you heard them, even if you don't agree.  Most of us suffer from insecurity and self-doubt.  Most of us have days where we feel no one is interested in us or our stories.  Each of us can choose to be the person that always makes people feel valued and appreciated.  And all we have to do is listen.

Consider whether or not expressing your opinion will make things better.  There are a lot of people who believe that everyone wants to know their opinion.  When I go to funeral or memorial services, I rarely hear that the beloved deceased had an opinion about everything and was happy to share their opinion.  It seems the most beloved among us are those that carefully share themselves with others, never demanding the spotlight, never demanding that their point of view be heard and shared.  They are not weak, nor are they without passion for their causes.  It is more that they live their lives as an example of who they are and what they believe is important, more than constantly barraging others with their opinions.

Be cheerful.  Cheerful people are a pleasure to be around.  Think about all the memorial and funeral services you have been to.  How many times have you heard "Her smile would light up a room", "You could always tell where he was by following the laughter".  There is enormous sadness in the world.  Being cheerful lifts the spirits of everyone around you.  Of course, there are times when it is impossible to be cheerful.  But as much as possible, laugh, and help others to laugh.  Be the smiling face that soothes someone's bad day.  Bring light into the darkness as much as you can.  Be cheerful.

For me, the best way I have found yet to cope with grief is to honor the person who I am grieving for.  I try to see the world through their eyes, I try to emulate that which I admired in them, and miss seeing them do.  There is no antidote or cure for grief, it is a passage that all must go through at one time or another.

But trying to be the good you saw in the person you miss is a way to keep them alive and with you.  And for me, that fills the empty space in my heart more than anything else.

The Strange World of Social Media

I decided to unfollow someone on Facebook yesterday.  It would be strong to call this person a friend, as they are more of an acquaintance, but Facebook calls them friends.  I pretty much have a rule that if someone sends me a friend request and I know them, I accept it.   But this person's extreme views on many subjects were upsetting, and I realized that I had no obligation to expose myself to their views.

And that got me to thinking about a conversation I had with my daughter on Saturday.  I talk to lots of people in different settings.  The neighbors, people at church, people at races, people at car shows, people in the grocery store.  The same level of acquaintance that many of my Facebook "friends" are.  And we talk about all kinds of stuff, but I don't really know them.

We talk about weather, and food, and the New Orleans Saints, and Mardi Gras, and music, and books, and plays and local happenings.  Given that I live in a very red state, it is safe to guess their politics, but rarely do politics come up, unless we are complaining about pot holes or police response time, or something really specific and local.

At first, Facebook was just like life.  People posted pictures of their children, and their pets.  They posted about vacations and special restaurant meals and personal accomplishments.

It was a place to go to get caught up on what was happening in each other's lives.  Some people still use Facebook that way, and I don't want to stop using Facebook because of the other people.  The people that can't seem to stop posting divisive and questionable stuff.

I actually don't mind people having an opinion and posting about it.  The people that post links to news stories in publications like the Wall Street Journal, Chicago Tribune, Los Angeles Times, New Orleans Advocate, CBS, NBC, ABC, CNN, even Fox News, I can scroll past and not be bothered.

But so many people who I used to think were kind of normal can't seem to help themselves from posting links to fringe sources with bizarre conspiracy theories about just about everything.  Then there are the people that need to post if you don't say "Amen" this or that bad thing will happen.  And the people who post horrific pictures of abused animals and say you need to share those horrific pictures.  What?

So I've started to unfollow people.  They never put their scary up in my face in person, and I don't know why they feel so comfortable putting their scary all over Facebook, but I don't want to see it.  I am not allowing people who wouldn't come to the hospital to see me if I were dying rent space in my head with their bizarre social media persona.

I used to feel kind of bad about unfollowing people.  It felt kind of dishonest.  Like I should unfriend them if I didn't want to see their scary.   But then I thought about it, and I have never felt bad about avoiding subjects in conversation that cause conflict.  I try to avoid social media posts that will provoke conflict.  And when I do post something that I realize will conflict with others, I try to always just put the fact or opinion out there, and not call people who don't agree names.

So for me, unfollowing means I know I can't influence you to stop putting whatever you want on Facebook, but I don't have to watch or entertain it.  In person, I would change the subject.  Well, really, in person, most of the stuff that upsets me never came up.  So if a person is so inclined to post things that are bizarre, unsubstantiated and/or disturbing, I don't need to see it.

Cleaning out the clutter in your home and cleaning out the clutter in your brain are both worthwhile activities.  It is totally within your power and your rights to call yourself a good person, and be a good person without allowing anyone to disturb you with unsubstantiated claims and disturbing images.

Social media seems to have created an alternate reality for many people where they believe that everyone wants to know their opinion on everything, and where they have no obligation to check the veracity of a story before sharing it.

I don't know how to fix that.  But I can certainly avoid it by not following those who put their scary on display day after day.

Paw Prints

I was always a dogs don't sleep in human beds person.  My mother was a dogs don't sleep in human beds person, and in this instance, I aligned with my upbringing.

Then Beaux the dog came to live with us.  He was not happy sleeping in a crate, and cried a lot.  I went on a business trip, and my husband let Beaux sleep in the bed while I was gone.  He has slept in the bed ever since.  It wasn't even a question with Scarlett, once she was reliably trained to potty outside, she was sleeping in the bed too.

Yes, they leave dog hair in the bed, and I sweep it out every morning before I make the bed.  The hair is easy to remove, the paw prints aren't.  I tend to change the sheets once a week.  The day I put clean sheets on the bed, there are no paw prints.  By the next morning, paw prints on the sheets.  This used to bother me, but it doesn't anymore.  Paw prints are a consequence of dogs sleeping in the human bed.  There are other consequences that outweigh the negative, so I'll just live with the paw prints.

One of the things I have learned about having a dog in the bed is that a relatively small creature can take up a lot of space.  But I've also learned that when those middle of the night panic attacks come, that small creature will soothe you in a way that a human can't.

There have been many nights when the whirlwind in my mind won't slow down, and when I put my hand on Beaux's back, and feel his even breathing, my mind slows and I can sleep.  There have been many nights when one or the other dog will wake up, and move into me so that they are as close as can be, reminding me that I am their comfort as much as they are mine.  Paw prints are a small price to pay.

So many of the decisions we make have both positive and negative consequences, and it can be easy to focus on the negative and overlook the positive.  It is easy to get caught up in daily irritations and forget the big picture.

Every pair of shoes on the floor, every discarded item of clothing that isn't in the dirty clothes hamper or laundry basket, every cup or glass or bowl on the counter is evidence that people live in your home.  If you live alone, it is tangible evidence of you.  For many of us who don't live alone, we forget to be thankful for the reminder that we are lucky to be sharing our home.

There is always a down side.  In the challenges of every day life, it can be easier to see the down side, to focus on the paw prints, and to forget the strong and quiet gift that companionship is.

I know that some day I will miss those paw prints.  I will wake up with a racing heart, and there will be no Beaux to comfort me.  In the moments that I forget that, I simply have to look at the urn of Burt's ashes on the fireplace, and I remember how short the lives of our four legged companions are.

We never know how long our human companions will be with us.  We can think that they will mourn our passing, but it is always possible that we will have to mourn theirs.  There are no guarantees in life.

As much as I can, I am trying to recognize the good, the positive that the people I share my life with bring.  I am trying to not let the petty aggravations steal my joy in the moment.

Because we never know how many moments we will have.  And I want to make sure I have a treasure chest full of memories with those I love when I can no longer share space with them on the planet.

Dog Whistles

I have always been told that dogs hear a wider range of frequencies than humans do.  Because of this, I have always believed that the whistles that are sold that make no sound I can discern are audible to dogs.  I have watched dogs respond to these whistles.

Because of this phenomenon, the ability to silently summon a dog with a whistle, a slang term has been used repeatedly in American language.  When someone uses language that sounds benign, but is coded for a certain audience to hear a different message, that is call using a dog whistle, or dog whistle rhetoric.

The problem with dog whistle rhetoric is how powerful it is.  Most of the people hearing a coded message will never hear the intent, or the dog whistle.  They will hear benign words, and wonder what those of us who understand the code are so upset about.

And mostly, it is impossible to convince them that there is a coded message that they don't understand.

Throughout the 2016 presidential election campaign in the United States, many people, including me, heard the coded message.  We heard a call for white supremacy.  We heard a call for the degradation of women.  We heard a call for mistreatment of people of color.  We heard a call for hate and fear.

Those of us who heard these whistles often found ourselves at odds with family and friends who heard no offense in "Make America Great Again".  Even when Donald Trump mocked a disabled reporter, dismissed a war hero, mocked a Gold Star family, and bragged about sexually assaulting women, those family and friends stuck with the Donald.

Now, in 2017, we have had an American woman die at the hands of a Nazi in Charlottesville, VA, a quiet mostly liberal college town in the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains.  Thousands of white supremacists converged on Charlottesville, VA to protest the removal of a statue of Robert E. Lee.  That was their stated purpose.  Many of us heard a dog whistle for a showing white strength, white supremacy, and a strong message of division.

There is a time in each person's life, and in each country's history, that people must decide who they are.  I am not a racist.  I do not believe any race is superior or inferior to another.  I do not believe in binary genders, or that gender and sexuality are the same thing.  I believe that love happens between individuals, and that all of us are on a continuum for what gender types we are attracted to.  I do not believe that any one gender is superior or inferior to another.  I believe that we are all born differently abled.  I do not believe that my abilities or disabilities make me superior or inferior to anyone else.  I believe we all have the right to practice or not practice any religion we choose.  I believe none of us have the right to force our religious beliefs on anyone else.  And I believe no one religion is superior or inferior to another.

I reject and condemn anyone who supports hatred, violence and separation.  I reject and condemn anyone who supports people who have a racist, or sexist, or xenophobic agenda.

It is time for Americans to be loud in their rejection of the hatred that is rampant right now in our country.  The time to make nice is in the past.  The time to be silent and hope that good people will come to realize they have to take a side is past.

Everyone has to take a side.  Either you support hatred, and violence to advance hate, or you reject hatred, and the violence used to advance hate.   Silence makes you complicit.

The saying either you are part of the problem or part of the solution has never been more true than it is right now.

I'm not telling anyone that they have to put a sign in their yard, or pick a fight with their neighbor.  But we all need to speak up when we hear the hate.  We all need to call on our President, Senators and Congressman to loudly decry the forces of hate that are getting stronger in our society.  We need to change the channel when someone on radio or television gives a microphone to the hatemongers.  We need to not visit internet sites that promulgate hate.

More than 400,000 Americans died in World War II to defeat the Nazis and Facism, and now we have thousands of Americans embracing these causes.  We must not allow them to disrespect the sacrifice of those brave individuals who gave their lives for freedom.  We must shun them.  We must take their platform and their microphones away.  We must force them to live in the shadows, as no decent American wants to hear their message, or see their faces.

The only way to stop the tide of hate that is sweeping over America is for all good people to stand together against it.  The cost of doing anything else is just too high.

Words Matter

When my husband and I got married and were trying to blend our families, there was a lot of tension, and a fair bit of anger and acrimony.  When tension and emotion are high, it is easy to say things that will hurt, and to leave terrible scars.

We went to family counseling, and the counselor recommended that we find a non hurtful way to express that we were hurt and disappointed.  In our family, if you felt hurt or disappointed, the correct response was to say either, "If I had a barbeque, I wouldn't invite you," or "You're not invited to my barbeque".

It was a great way to handle conflict, and I wish I could remember to do it all the time.  It is very hard when you feel dismissed or disregarded to respond appropriately.  The natural human response to feeling attacked seems to be to attack back.

I've evolved enough that I can usually manage to make "I" instead of "you" statements.  Things like "When you speak to me in that tone of voice, I feel like I am being disrespected."  Or "When  you called my idea stupid, my feelings were hurt".  But I fail to take the really right response of, "You're not invited to my barbeque".

Now, I accept saying that to a perfect stranger would be very confusing, so this can only be used with family.  But really, how often do we engage in conflict with people outside our families?  Most of our conflicts are with family, or friends, or coworkers, all of whom can be consulted to develop a non hurtful, non hostile way to indicate we feel disregarded or diminished.

As for the world at large, the first question for me is always why I have given a stranger the power to make me feel disregarded or diminished.  Why not just realize you two humans do not know each other, and that the other person may have something huge going on that has impacted their interpersonal relation skills?  Offer goodness up to the universe on their behalf, and move on.

But what about those people who you are forming a relationship with?  Should feeling disregarded or diminished prevent you from pursuing a relationship with them?

I think not.  I think we all have moments where we speak or act with less consideration than we consider normal for us.  I think that in order to have meaningful relationships, we have to give others permission to mess up sometimes, and we have to ask for permission to mess up sometimes ourselves.  Meaningful relationships also demand forgiveness, and the hardest part is that they demand that we accept someone else's shortcomings, and ask some else to accept our shortcomings.

It is easy to get in the habit of feeling like all the compromise, all the overlooking of idiosyncrasy, all the forgiving is on our side of the equation.  When we feed those feelings, it gets easier to respond in anger, hurt or frustration, and to say things that can't be unsaid, to create hurtful scars that can never heal.

When we carelessly use language to hurt or escalate, we can back ourselves into a corner that we never wanted to be in and can find no way out of.

And all of that starts with how we process the inputs we receive, and how we respond to them.  If you start to feel that there is an imbalance of fairness or power in an important relationship, stop.  Analyze why you feel that way.  If there are concrete examples of situations that left you feeling disregarded, write them down.  Ask yourself how those situations could have been handled differently so that a better outcome was achieved.  Think long and hard about whether or not a productive discussion can be had with the other party in the conversation.  If yes, initiate that conversation.  If no, decide if you can process those situations in a way that does not end with you feeling disregarded.

There are some relationships that bring no positive effects to us.  Those relationships may need to be preserved for many complex reasons.  But there is no reason to give those people's words power over us.    If a relationship is not positive and does not need to be preserved, let it go.  All relationships need care and feeding.  If you turn away from the maintenance of the relationship, it will go dormant, and some will die.

Every time we put hurt into the universe on purpose, because we failed to control our negative emotions, we diminish not only the person we are speaking to in a hurtful manner, we also diminish ourselves.

Words matter.  Actions have consequences.  Negativity breeds negativity.  The pathways in our brains are strengthened by repetition.  If I want better outcomes in my relationships, I have to examine the inputs I am providing, and the individuals I am providing them to.  Often, I can see the same situation, the same conversation in completely different lights, based on how I choose to process the information.

The more I choose to ignore a careless comment that was not intended to harm, the more likely I am to be able to choose to ignore the next careless comment.  We're all flawed.  I can choose to focus on the flaw, or I can choose to focus on the rest of the individual.

The more I try to treat everyone the way I wish they would treat me, the more I reinforce the behaviors that I want to demonstrate.  The more I demonstrate those behaviors, the more likely I am to inspire others to copy my behaviors.

Every revolution was started by an action.  I am choosing today to start a kindness and compassion revolution based on how I respond to others.

The summer of my discontent

It has been a long time since I posted anything.  This has been a difficult summer for me.  I'm not exactly sure why.

I think the darkness started to fall on my Mom's 90th birthday.  It was really hard for me to accept that my Mom was turning 90 and it was a sad, not a happy day.  I have had numerous people I love reach ninety years of age, and always before it was an occasion of great celebration.  There was no point in celebration for Harriet, that much disruption would only upset her.  It seemed so terribly unfair to me that someone should live that long, only to spend so much time without cognizance.

This summer has also seen a friend lose a great-grandchild to cancer, a friend lose a wife to cancer, and a long-time work associate be stricken with Guillain-Barre syndrome.  Every time I feel like I am clawing my way out of the darkness, another wave has taken my feet out from under me.

Usually, I can pull myself up better than I have this summer.  It seems like my well of hope is dry.  There have been occasional bright spots.  My husband and I went on a short vacation with my daughter and son-in-law, and those were very good days.  A dear friend came into town and we had dinner, and that was a very good day.  Then the darkness comes back.

I usually process my way through the darkness by writing, but I couldn't seem to force myself to write either.  Even the laundry stopped bringing me joy.  (Laundry has long been the soother of my soul.  I love laundry.)

I have tried to make myself open this blog and write.  I have managed to compose a few pages in my novel, and to crochet a bit.  This week, my husband and I started staining boards to replace a dilapidated fence in the backyard.  Each effort, a tiny step towards pushing out of the darkness.

A few weeks ago, we had a visiting priest for Mass.  He spoke heavily accented English, and I had to work really hard to understand him during Mass, but especially during the sermon.  It was good for me to pay that close attention, because it allowed me to really process what he was saying.  One thing he said will stick with me forever.  He alleged that the greatest sin is to not use God's gifts to you to make the world a better place.  Wasting God's gifts is the worst sin according to this priest.

It made me think about what my gifts are.  I think I can write.  I think I can be nurturing.  I think I can help people to find peace, or inspiration or comfort.  Maybe I have been stuck in the darkness because I have not been using my gifts.

It took ten days from the day of that sermon until I had the discipline to try to write.  I will try harder each day to find words to put on paper.  They may not be as inspirational as I want them to be, but they will be honest.

Sometimes, the best way to inspire is to acknowledge your own struggle.  I have difficulty admitting when I am struggling.  I like to be the comforter, not the comforted.  But if I don't share my struggles, my darkness, then I am not allowing you to see the real me.

I miss the connection I feel when I see that people have read my postings.  I truly welcome comments, because some of my struggle this summer has been feeling purposeless.  I didn't post for more than three weeks, and no one asked where I was.  This left me feeling that I am pushing myself on people, rather than providing a bright spot.

I know I have to be my own cheerleader, and that I have to be my own driver and disciplinarian.  But truth be told, the approval junkie in me hasn't gotten a fix in a long time.  I need to learn to persevere without external support.  And I will.

This summer will not be remembered as one of my favorites.  But hopefully, I can turn this discontent into a renewed sense of purpose.  I want to use the gifts God gave me to make the world a better place.  And I simply can't do that when I let the darkness win.

Short story

Hi All -

I wrote a short story today, and I want to share it with you.  It is longer than my usual blog posts, and for that I apologize.  I hope you enjoy it.

The Guide

“Hi, I’m here to escort you to the other side.”

Samantha shook her head and rubbed her eyes.  “Who are you, and where am I?”  she asked.

“I’m Dennis, and you are in the transitional plane.  This is where you go when you die.  I’m a guide.  I’ll take you through to the other side.”

“I have a meeting this morning.  I need to make breakfast for my husband.  What are you talking about?”  Samantha was getting more and more upset as she talked.

This was Dennis’ least favorite kind of client.  It was so much easier with the ones who expected to die, or who died violently and remembered the last moments.  The clients that died in their sleep were always the most difficult to convince that they were really dead.

“Let’s sit down and have a cup of coffee, and I’ll explain everything to you.”  Suddenly, they were in a coffee shop setting, where minutes before, they had been in what looked like the lobby of a high end hotel.

“You had an aneurysm in your brain, and while you were sleeping last night, it ruptured.  At a point in the night, your husband woke up and discovered you were not breathing.  He called 911, and started CPR, but you were already dead.  Your Mom and Dad, and his Mom and Dad are with him.  Your siblings are headed into town.  This is the afterlife.  I’m a guide.  I greet people when they arrive, and take them across this plane, to the other side.”  Dennis offered Samantha a box of tissues, as she was crying.

“I’m twenty-eight.  I have my whole life ahead of me.  We didn’t even get to have children yet.  I can’t be dead.”

Dennis took Samantha’s hand.  “In a few minutes, you will calm down.  The energy of this place soothes all negative emotions.  The calm will last for a while, and then emotions will come back.  When you miss someone too much, there will be opportunities to see them, and to send them messages.  Not everyone in the first life is receptive to messages, but if your people are you will enjoy visiting their dreams, and leaving them keepsakes.  The transition is always hardest for people who don’t expect to die, and have no warning.  Just take deep breaths, it will all be okay.”

Samantha felt her emotions receding, and a peculiar calm was taking over.  While her rational mind was still working to process everything, her emotional mind seemed to be shut down.  “I must be dreaming.  Wait till I tell Mike about this when I wake up.  I’ve had some vivid dreams before, but this is a doozy.”

Dennis offered Samantha a cup of coffee, fixed exactly how she liked it.  So many of his clients thought their first consciousness in the transition plane was a dream, and he let them.  The first couple of times he had tried to reinforce the truth, but after a few clients, he realized they would come to the realization on their own as they made their way across the plane.  Samantha would be one of those clients.

“This coffee is perfect.  I don’t remember having a dream before where I ate and drank and experienced flavor.”  

“When we finish our coffee, we’ll start the journey to the other side.  Only guides stay in the transitional plane.  All others leave first life, spend as much time as they need to in the plane, and then pass on through to the other side.”

Samantha was still trying to figure out where this strange dream came from, but she was also intrigued by the story this Dennis guy was spinning.

“So, do you know how long I’ll be in the transitional plane?”  Dennis shook his head no.

“I get notified to meet a client at a location.  Then I get instructions one at a time.  After the coffee shop, I’m supposed to take you through the park, and stop at the farm.  The walk will take a little while, but we’ll go slow so you can adjust to the environment.”

Samantha hoped she would remember every detail of this dream to tell Mike in the morning.  Maybe she could even write it down.

As Dennis and Samantha left the coffee shop, Samantha looked around her.  They appeared to be on a Main Street with shops and cafes and hotels.  There were other people walking around, and everyone seemed to be with just one other person, but none of the people together looked like couples, more like two strangers, just like her and Dennis.  Wierd.  As they got to the end of the street, the businesses gave way to houses, and then the houses gave way to green space.  Samantha supposed this was the park that Dennis had mentioned.   The weather was perfect, warm but not hot, with a nice breeze.  The sun felt good, again, warm but not hot.  The flower gardens in this park were amazing.  Samantha was never one to enjoy silence so she tried to figure out a good way to start a conversation.

“The flowers are gorgeous.”  That felt like a good opening.  “Yes they are, and I never get tired of them.  The flowers change for each client, so that the newcomers always see an assortment that makes them feel good.”  Samantha was still trying to process that information when they arrived at a large gate with an intercom.

Dennis pushed a button and a voice responded.  “Dennis is here with Samantha Fremont.”  “Great, we’ve been expecting you.  We’ll see you in the Green House.”

“The have a greenhouse?  Is that where they cultivate the flowers?”  Dennis smiled, “Not a greenhouse, the Green House.  You’ll see in a minute.”

Inside the gate was a farm, with a couple of barns, and about seven houses.  Each house was painted in a solid color.  The houses were red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet, like a rainbow.

Samantha smiled back.  “I get it now, the Green House.  What are we here for?”  Dennis smiled.  “You’ll see in a minute, and I think you’ll like it.”

As Dennis opened the door of the Green House, Samantha noticed that it smelled like her Mom and Dad’s house.  Kind of a cinnamon and vanilla smell.  “It smells like my Mom and Dad’s.”  Then Samantha noticed that it also looked like the house she had grown up in.  The furniture was the same as when she was in grade school.  This dream was getting stranger and stranger.  Samantha was looking around the room and noticing how exactly replicated her childhood home was when she noticed the grey and white cat sitting in the window.

“Stardust!  What are you doing here?”  The cat turned at the sound of Samantha’s voice and jumped down from the window.  She ran over and started rubbing against Samantha’s legs, and meowing to be picked up.  Samantha picked the cat up, and the two rubbed noses, and then Stardust put her paws on Samantha’s shoulders and nuzzled her head into Samantha’s neck.

“Oh baby!  I’ve missed you so much for so long.  I don’t understand.”  Samantha was starting to get that this wasn’t a dream.

“Most of my clients find their first happiness on this side when they are reunited with their pets.  As a guide, I have been assigned to greet a pet and bring them to the farm.  Pets make the transition so much more readily than humans.  They are happy to wait, as long as they are fed and have a nice place to live and some affection.  I brought Stardust over.  She was a little shy at first, but she warmed right up.  She’s been waiting for you.”

“She’s younger than when she died.  And thinner.”  Samantha was surprised at how calmly she was processing information.  It was strange that being dead was starting to feel normal.

“Everyone returns to their best self in the transitional plane.  You were twenty-eight when you died, so you will probably stay twenty-eight.  Most people’s best self is somewhere between twenty-eight and forty-eight.  We have a few people who present on this side in the sixties and seventies, because they felt they were their best self at that age.  How someone presents isn’t up to the Guardian.  It is up to the person.  So, however you liked yourself best, that is how you present.  Children stay children, because children usually like themselves just fine.”

“You said you were taking me through the transitional plane to the other side, the afterlife.  What happens to people there?  How do they look and feel?”

“I don’t know, Samantha, I’ve never been there.”

“How come?  Why not?”

“I have never asked those questions.  When I died, I was met by Theo, a guide.  He told me that I had been chosen to be a guide, and I went into training here on the transitional plane.  I’ve been a guide ever since.”

“But don’t you wonder about what is on the other side?  About the afterlife?”

“Not really.  Other guides have left this plane and moved on, and I suppose if the Guardian wants me to move on I will.  No reason to wonder about it.  I am always comfortable.  There is always food to eat, a comfortable bed to sleep in, friends to visit with when I’m not working.  On earth, I was always worried about how I was going to pay my bills, and if I was going to lose my job.  Here, I worry about nothing.  I enjoy meeting new people and helping them transition.   It is a very nice existence.  I’m happier than I ever was on earth.”

Samantha took a minute to process that.

“What was your life on earth like?  Did you have family?”

“No family.  My mom was a drug addict.  Never knew who my dad was.  I was in foster care my whole life.  She died when I was eight, but by then, I was considered unadoptable.  I went in the army at eighteen, gave that twenty years.  Then I bounced around.  Bartending, tour guide (ironic, I know), waiter, anything to make a few bucks.  I liked being around people, but never made close friends.  I got diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia at forty-five, and was dead in less than two months.  Got all my medical care through the VA, lucky for me I was a veteran, otherwise, I’d have been out of luck.  They at least kept me comfortable until it was over.”

“Wow, Dennis.  I never knew anybody without family before.  I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Samantha.  The world is full of people like me.  Unattached and just getting by.  This afterlife is so much better.  No disease, no pain, no danger. You can eat all you like and stay a perfect weight.  You can drink all you like and never get drunk or feel hungover.  No sunburn or indigestion.  Nothing to make you ever feel bad.   And connections.  I have more friends on the transitional plane than I ever did on earth.  And I still get to be around people.”

Samantha was still petting Stardust, and feeling better about where she was.  “What’s next?”

“Next I’m supposed to take you to the Habitat.  I just got word that you are going to meet one of the guides there and both of you will go to the other side.  This is a new one for me.  I never had two clients at the same time, and I never escorted a guide.  Let’s go.”

“Do I have to leave Stardust?”

“No, you and she will be together forever now.  Don’t worry, you can carry her, or she can walk.  She won’t stray from you in the transitional plane.  That is just how it works.”

When Samantha and Dennis left the Green House, they headed right back out through the gate they entered, and headed back towards the park.   The day was still perfect, although the sun was lower in the sky.  Dennis answered Samantha before she asked.

“The sky mimics the sky on earth, to help people feel comfortable during transition.  Time is a little more fluid when you have been here a while, like I have.  Basically, I will experience daytime whenever I am with a client, and it is always evening when I finish.  I have fun with other guides until night, sleep and repeat.”

While Dennis had been talking they walked about halfway through the park before turning down a different road.  Along this road were more houses, like the ones that had been near the main street with the shops and cafes.  They came to a small well kept house with a big front porch.

“Here we are.  We call this the Habitat.  It is the control center for the guides.  This is where I came for my training when I arrived.  This is where we are meeting the other client.”  Dennis wondered which guide was going to be moving on.

There was a man on the far side of the room when they entered.  He turned when he heard the door open.  “Uncle Rick!”  Samantha ran across the room and embraced the man.

“Hey Sunshine!  Nice to meet you!  I’ve been watching you all these years, and you’re even prettier in person.”

Rick smiled at Dennis over Samantha’s head.  “Hey Dennis.  I guess you are the guide taking us both to the other side.  Samantha is my sister Denise’s girl.  I died while Denise was pregnant.”

“Uncle Rick, Mom always told me I would meet you someday in Heaven.  I guess she was right.”

“We’re not exactly in Heaven, sweetheart.  We’re in the transitional plane.  But I did visit your Mom in a dream last night, and tell her we are together.  So when Mike called her, I think she knew.  Maybe we can visit her again soon.”

Dennis recognized a fleeting sadness.  “I’ll miss you Eric.  You’ve been here since I got here.  We’ve had some good times together.”

“I’ll miss you too, Den.  Maybe I’ll see you some day on the other side. I just got back from a delivery.  A three year old boy.  He was excited about everything.  Never cried or was afraid.  I took him to the farm where we picked up a puppy, never saw anything cuter than that boy and that puppy together.  When I dropped them off at the gate to the afterlife, it looked like there was a big crowd to meet him.  I feel good that my last client was so happy to be here.”

Samantha looked puzzled.  “If I got Stardust back, where did the puppy come from?  Won’t someone else be looking for him?”

“Ah, Sam.  Some puppies are euthanized, or die naturally because there is no one to care for them.   The Guardian matches them up with the children that died wanting a puppy.  This little guy had been battling cancer for most of his life.  The guides don’t know much about the other side, but the one thing we do know is that when children go to the afterlife, they go to people who love children, and who either miss their own children, or never got the chance to have children.  The Guardian knew it would be too hard for the guides to drop children off not knowing that they would be well cared for.  As often as I have escorted children through the plane, I’ve always fallen a little in love with each one.”

“Me, too, Eric.  The children are both the easiest and the hardest clients.  I need to get you two moving.  We’re due at the gate.”

As Dennis, Rick and Samantha walked back through the park and past the farm on towards the gate, Samantha felt the last sense of strangeness leave her body and her mind.  The afterlife was waiting, and she felt excited to see what it held for her.  Maybe there would be a baby soon that needed her.  She thought of Mike, and how she wished she could say goodbye properly.

Dennis answered her as if she had spoken.   “The Guardian will let you say goodbye to Mike when the time is right.  I told you, you will get to visit, and leave impressions.  The more open he is to believing that you can still reach him, the more likely it is that he will know you have been in contact.  It is an imperfect system because the humans in first life have a hard time accepting.  It is part of the reason that children transition so naturally.  They are used to visiting with people in the afterlife, and to them coming here is just like visiting a favorite relative.”

Samantha thought about her Mom, and how often Mom had said she’d had a visit or a message from Rick.  “I know my Mom will be fine, because she never lost contact with Uncle Rick.  I hope she can convince Mike.  I don’t want him to be sad and hurting.”

“Unless Denise has changed an awful lot since I left earth, she’ll convince him.  She was like a terrier with a bone as a girl.”

Samantha laughed.  “She still is.  Thanks for reminding me, Uncle Rick.”

The had arrived at the gate.  Stardust pawed Samantha’s leg to be picked up.  Dennis shook hands with Rick, and then nodded to Samantha.  “Good luck in the afterlife.  It was an honor to be your guide.”  And with that, the gate swung open and shut, with Dennis on the transitional plane, and Samantha, Stardust and Eric in the afterlife.

Dennis made his way back to town, where he enjoyed a night of darts and camaraderie at the bar watching football.

“Hi, I’m here to escort you to the other side.”

“Dang, I was hoping to see Mary right away.  I’ve been waiting eighteen years.  Who are you?”

“I’m Dennis, and I’m your guide through the transitional plane.  Nice to meet you Henry.  I’ll get you to Mary as quickly as I can.”