Noah and Nala
Synchronicities tend to flourish during pivotal points in our lives. The recent death of our Golden Retriever, Noah, had its share. We wrote about the particulars here.
In early March, shortly after he got sick, Rob dreamed that he and I were traveling somewhere. Noah was with us, but behind us, thinner than his usual 105 pounds, and he was with my dad, whom we called Buddy, who had died in 2005. When Rob told me his dream the next morning, I went into complete denial. Just a dream.
But deep down, I think we both knew the dream was precognitive and this illness of Noah’s wasn’t going to end well.
My dad had lived with us for several years after we put my mother in an Alzheimer’s facility, and loved the Golden Retriever we had back then, Jessie. Here she is after Hurricane Wilma, wondering what happened to the mailbox.
We used to take Jessie with us to the Alzheimer’s unit, where most of the patients remembered her by name. She often engaged with my mother and the other patients, accompanying them on imaginary trips to Broadway, Disney, L.A. Jessie, like Noah, was a rescue, a reddish Golden. She wasn’t as large as Noah, who weighed 105 pounds and was considerably larger than most of the dogs in our local dog park. But what she lacked in size was compensated by her compassion for and love of humans.
The night we brought Noah home from the clinic where he’d had his ultrasound, I contacted Heather Bristol, an animal communicator Megan had gone to after her cat, Piper, died unexpectedly.
I explained the situation about Noah and said I would like to know whether this recommended surgery was what Noah wanted. Since Noah was still alive at the time, Heather requested a photo and said she would call me at 10 a.m. on March 14. Shortly after 8 a.m. that morning, I texted her that Noah had passed.
She replied that we could still talk, but that he night not be fully accessible to her for several days. After death, the souls of some animals enter into what Heather calls soul healing, where the soul is essentially reborn into the spirit world, just as it was reborn into the physical world. When we talked, though, she had some preliminary information. Pressure in the abdomen. A stoppage of blood flow to certain parts of the body. He had been an independent dog who lived – and died – by his own agenda.
He had wanted to die at home. Megan’s cat, Piper, was with him, and so was “another dog that had been associated with you and Rob.” Heather hadn’t seen that dog’s breed or color, but my sense was that the dog was Jessie. As soon as Noah saw the dog, he decided he was “outta here.”As Heather put it, he had “fulfilled his soul’s purpose for this life and was ready to move on. He lived in love and he moved into love after he passed.”
We talked for more than an hour about her work, the state of the world, climate change, and animals. She didn’t charge me for her time because she couldn’t full connect to Noah’s spirit. That will come at a later date. But Heather, like our friends Millie Gemondo, Kathy Adams, and Helen Burley, is the real deal.
Each of these women excels in a particular area. They’re like pieces of some huge jigsaw in the matrix of reality. Heather’s specialty is animals. Millie is great with emotional connections, the bigger picture. Kathy is a psychometrist who can read you through any object, even a cell phone. And Helen is a Spiritualist medium who speaks to your loved ones who have passed. There are men who also do this work, but women seem to outnumber them.
So what is this weird matrix in which we live? I get glimpses, have certain experiences, look for answers. But in the end, I don’t know. None of us know. We have ideas and theories, and some are more popular than others, but the bottom line is that we’re clueless. We grope through the dark and sometimes synchronicity offers a glimmer of understanding, clues, hints, intuitive hunches, and we have to figure out the symbolism. Rob could have ignored the dream about Noah with Buddy. But he knew what it meant.
So did I.