Thanksgiving 2011

This year my Thanksgiving was an emotionally complicated Blessing. I spent it with my family: my brother, his wife and their son, my sister, her son/wife and 2 girls, and my son/wife and my granddaughter. We all went into the day knowing it would be challenging.

You see, in March, my niece Sybil (my brother's daughter) died from complications of childbirth. Her son, Jack, was spending Thanksgiving with his father's family in Florida.

In anticipation of the day and the obvious void Sybil's absence would create, we each tried to come up with a way to honor her. There were lengthy conversations that occurred between various family members. Candles, flowers, writing memories in a book to later give to Jack and speeches were all suggested but none of the ideas felt quite right.

Then my sister started scanning family photos from many generations that could run as a slide show before dinner on Thanksgiving. We all got very excited about her idea because it was about our family and shared experiences. Pictures of Sybil and other family members who had passed on were seen and talked about in the context of an event or something we had shared. It took us into the past while keeping us fully present with our feelings in the moment. Showing the photos was just right!

My sister said a few words before dinner--talking about our love for each other and about our terrible and tragic loss of Sybil. Even though she spoke briefly--there was not a dry eye. And, somehow, that too was just right.

Since Sybil's death in March, each of us has had our own individual grieving process which have been as different as our relationships with her were. After the initial shock of her death, we have had to make our way through the many emotions the grief has presented over and over again.

Thanksgiving was the first time our family shared our grieving collectively. Several things were different. For one thing, everyone was very present. There was great acceptance of each other's grief and lots of space for each person to be where they were. The day was full of compassion and deep love for each other.

The 3 babies who were there accentuated the fact that Jack was not. Trying to set up a Scype call with Jack and his father proved unsuccessful. I watched this add layers of different feelings for various people. I was mostly aware of my own sadness for my brother, his wife and their son and my anger at Jack's father for not realizing how important making contact was and for not making it a priority to happen.

My experience of Thanksgiving this year has moved me forward in my grieving process in ways I can feel but have no words for. I am deeply grateful for my family and feel huge love for them. I miss my niece and still have moments when I forget or don't believe she is not here. It will take a long time to come to terms with and accept her passing. I am just so proud of my family for having the courage to face reality together gently with total unconditional love.

Spiritual Growth

I want to tell you about Arty, my Tibetan Spaniel. In dog years he is 14 which, when you do the math, makes him in human years a very wise 98 year old. I became guardian of this beautiful soul when he was 3 years old. At that point in his life he was far from being as stable and wise as he has become.

He had been a show dog, a Champion. His handler had not liked him and during our first few years together, I questioned the treatment he had received. He was frightened of many things. Thunder, lightening, cameras, and people were terrifying to him. He would jump into my arms and shake.

The other quality that he was lacking was courage. He wanted everything to be the same and was extremely rigid about trying new things. He would even pass up a morsel of meat if it was something new. If someone new (human or canine) came into his personal space he would high-tail it out of there. It evoked in me a strong need to protect him.

I had never considered the parallel of personal evolvement and spiritual growth for dogs with the development we go through as humans. You know how we are constantly being given lessons that we can ignore (and they just come back in a larger form) or work through and on the other side we have arrived at an entirely new level?

Arty’s growth seemed at first to be about coming to grips with his external world. He had to adjust to his new home, new caretaker, another dog (Hobbit) and a whole new life. This took him a while and I began to notice the more comfortable he became and familiarly settled in, the more his personality began to show.

He started to relax and come out of his shell. He became comfortable being alone in a room and not having to follow Hobbit or me around. On our walks he began to venture out on his own while he kept a close eye on me. He started showing his soft lovable side and became quite a wonderful snuggler.

Then he discovered a passion for music. When my string quartet would come to the house to play, Arty would plant himself in the middle of the music stands and not get up or even move for the entire two and a half hours we played. Everyone looked forward to coming to my house because they knew how much Arty loved music.

Just as Arty was coming into his own, Hobbit (who was 18 years old in dog years) lost her hearing and sight over a few months period of time. She was a terrier mix and lived to go for walks. Having no hearing or sight did not deter her urge to run so I began taking them to parks that were fenced in.

This was an amazing transformational time for Arty. All of a sudden, he took on being Hobbit’s eyes and ears. When we went for walks he would herd her and keep her close to me. He kept up with her terrier pace and kept her safe. At home he would lay right beside her and then help guide her when she got up in whatever direction was appropriate.

Arty’s relationship with Hobbit began to feel like a spiritual awakening. The love he had for her was enormous and just continued to grow. He was totally present to her and right in the moment. As I watched him take on this new position, I saw a total change in his personality. His openness increased his trust, courage, power and his entire being.


When the day came for me to get Hobbit put to sleep, we took one last walk among the daffodils on a beautiful spring afternoon. I knew Arty had to be in the room with us and fortunately my veterinarian came to the house. The moment Hobbit was gone Arty jumped onto the couch and put his little head on Hobbit and let out a howling moan. I couldn’t stop sobbing.

He took Hobbit’s death very hard. In fact, I think it took him about four years and moving to a new area of the country where there were no reminders of her before he started feeling happy again. In the meantime I acquired two more Tibetan Spaniels. Arty wanted nothing to do with his sisters. He only wanted Hobbit and I had brought the wrong girls home.

It was as though his heart was broken. A couple of years after Hobbit’s death we discovered through a doggie heart specialist that Arty’s heart was three times the size it was supposed to be. It didn’t seem to bother him, but I couldn’t help but wonder if his grief hadn’t affected his heart.

When we moved across the country he was happy almost from the first day. Then another growth spurt happened. He began to act like a real dog. Maybe I was in a learning curve, too, learning how to be the alpha dog and let my dogs be dogs. Arty thrived on this new arrangement and seemed to relax because he wasn’t having to take care of his sisters and me.

Arty was diagnosed with several life-threatening aliments almost two years ago. He has done well on medication and I make every day an opportunity to be with him one more precious day.

I was just away for three weeks and when I returned I just sat down and held Arty and cried. He had lost about a quarter of his body weight and I could even see the bones on his back. I know it won’t be long now before he will die.

When I think back about Arty, I am in awe struck about how much he has grown throughout this lifetime. He learned to trust and be in his power. He opened his heart to Hobbit and took care of her marvelously. He loves unconditionally. He lives in the moment and when he is with you he is totally present.
He has learned how to be an amazing dog. Most importantly, he has developed his spiritual being way beyond what most people are capable.

I just had to share Arty’s story with you because it is important to be able to witness personal growth in another being. It helps to remind me to stay on my path and keep growing. What I do matters less than how I do it. Arty taught me that.