The re-invention of Gracie May: Love ❤️ is an AND, not an OR
Queen Gracie
the Muse Herself
Original Gangstas: Simon & Gracie
Whole lotta Grace
Our Halloween surprise: Luna Sophia Grace
Majestic
Beauty Eyes
Soulmates: Simon & Sophia
Pixie May: both Valentine’s Day 2/14/19
Spunky, fiesty, independent and tough—the runt of her litter. ❤️
Eyes Wide Open
Pixie 🧚♀️ Play
Punk Princess : Word to the Wise
***
Gracie died on September 22, 2018, two days after my 40th birthday.
I had a hard decade—my 30s were wrought with energy overloads my mind nor medical science could explain and my physical and emotional health remained a day-to-day measurement. Sweeping into 40, I felt like I had finally mastered the sensitivity of my nervous system disorder which had exacerbated since giving birth in 2009, and I was on the rise with self-confidence and my ability to connect and interact with the public as I had once before. Gracie gave me a funny look on Wednesday. She had always been more master than cat, and I knew this look came from Spirit. I gazed at her closely and asked, “What have you been up to?” She had a thin veneer of dust on her black and white coat and she looked as blissful as a pig in a vat of you-know-what. A few days later I noticed she was squinting in her left eye, which was uncharacteristic of her. It was late on a Sunday night and the only clinic open was the emergency hospital a few towns over. I called several other nearby clinics and they recommended that an eye issue should be seen by specialists at the emergency hospital. *** Gracie is examined by a young doctor and diagnosed with the equivalent of a kitty cold. We are given some eye drops and instructed that it will go away within a week or two. A few days later I notice her eye is remarkably worse and I ask the hospital if I should come in. They assure me that it is normal. The next morning it appears there is a golf ball over her eye. I rush her in. Another young vet says that the first diagnosis is incorrect. It is now a second diagnosis. With fluids overnight and antibiotics, I can pick her up in the morning. I drive home, finally relieved and able to breathe a bit. As I pass I205 I feel Gracie’s soul—“If I were compromised, and I could not live as myself, would want me to stay?” My heart floods open and my answer is immediate. All souls are free to be as they need to be. She warms my heart and I feel her Spirit. A comfort embraces me. I have passed some internal test. My cat is safe. *** Three hours later my gut sinks. Something has turned in weave. I can feel it. *** Twenty minutes later the hospital calls. We should come down immediately. “Am I going to lose her? Is she okay?” I can’t breathe. My heart is outside my chest. I am full yet empty. *** “Regrettably we believe the fluids are pressing on her brain causing brain damage, and her organs are failing.” They tell me but I don’t want to believe it. She is such a good girl. She is spunky and wise, forceful and present, magnetizing and whole. She has a lightening kink tail and an electric soul. She is Gracie May. And she is dying. She is 4. I have known her 3 years. She is my best friend. And she is dying. *** I hold her and I ask her if she wants to go. Give me a sign if you want to go. They will have to put her to sleep. I will have to consciously sign off on her death. Give me a sign Gracie. Lift your head if I should fight for you. Spirit flashes. The clock. The sign on the wall: “I’ll be right back.” A black and white kitten poster staring at me. You are such a good girl. I don’t want to let you go. I have to. I love you Gracie. No one will be my girl like you. *** In her passing, she teaches me how to doula death, as Anasara taught me to doula birth, and my Soul, re-birth. A wisdom teacher is a master from beginning to end. *** The signs continue for weeks. Intuitive friends see visions of small black cats. All black. Ana and I head to the shelter one morning before Halloween. I am hell-bent I will only get the soul that is Gracie. I will wait for her. Before we leave, in the bathroom, Spirit asks, “Are you willing to love another soul, one of the same soul stream as Gracie? One that is connected to Anasara?” I agree— but only if I feel the resonance. *** An all-black, sleek and beautiful young cat named Luna Sophia of Grace enters our lives this beautiful, autumn day and fits in so perfectly with Simon Bubbins the Majestic that some would call them soulmates. 🐱 ❤️ She is a trinity, and her faces change depending on whether she is mothering, hunting or playing. She is a magus and an elemental. She reminds us so much of our Grace. We love her fiercely and cannot imagine our family without her in it. She is one of us. She is ours. *** How will I know, Spirit? I know you say not to doubt YOU KNOW WHEN YOU KNOW, but I don’t want to miss her. I don’t want to miss the soul that is Gracie. *** After Gracie died in September, I went on a birthday coastal trip that I had planned long before she got sick. I spent much of the trip crying into the ocean, opening my heart when I wanted to shut down in grief. In late November I was rear-ended at high speed by a truck on the freeway and earned my first concussion and my not-so-first neck and spine injuries. The hole in my heart, coupled with falling 4 additional times in December due to concussion-induced vertigo and re-concussing my head would push me to my brink. Could I refuse victimhood and remain empowered here? Even in my disempowerment? My depression? Anxiety? Grief? With an injury that was affecting my work due to limited time I could spend meditating on behalf of others in the realms of Spirit—it put me to the test. Could I take the punches without succumbing to them? *** I feel the signs again. She is near. I feel her soul. She has been born. I dance around the house, and for 40+ days, I mention to anyone in hearing vicinity that I am getting a kitten! Except I may not be getting a kitten. Because I rely on Spirit and the inner knowing and she could be a whole slew of things I am not even aware of. I remain open. I remain wiling to not-know and know-when-I-know. *** I go to the coast again, to shake off the last one. Our trip is cut one day short and I can’t help but feel it is serendipitous though I have no logical reason why. At midnight the night I return home, I check the shelter’s website. THERE SHE IS! OH MY GOD, IT’S HER! I KNOW IT’S HER!! Inner monologue: “Marcia, it is midnight. They open at noon tomorrow.” THAT IS 12 HOURS AWAY!!
My anxiety shifts from “Will I know it’s her?” to “What if someone else gets her? Or has already gotten her?” Spirit reminds, “You cannot miss what is yours.” I have mini-minor freak-outs and long stretches of calm. It is almost noon. I am in the parking lot. I walk in. Three volunteers stop talking. “I am looking for Pixie??” I ask half-meekly hoping and half-willing with all my might. “You came at the perfect time! She wouldn’t have lasted through my 3-hour shift!!” *** There is no OR in death. Only AND. Love multiplies. *** And it always returns. Meet Pixie May. Born February 14, 2019 A bundle of ❤️
