People have pets for a number of reasons. Companionship for themselves, companionship for a family member, someone for another pet to play with. As a gift for someone. To practice taking care of something before trying to have a baby.  They may feel guilty after seeing an ASPCA commercial on TV, or reading about their local humane society burning down. Whatever the reason originally, once an animal comes into a life destined to be a pet, the owner’s life will change dramatically for the better.  

There are many benefits to having a pet, not only emotionally, but actually physically as well. If you have to take a dog outside for a walk, that means you get a walk too! You have to bend down to scoop out cat litter and most litter boxes or containers weigh close to thirty pounds!  Most pet owners, even if they don’t admit it, talk to their pets. This communication can be a form of stress-relief, especially since your pet can respond, but not tell anyone else about your discussion. This can help you sleep, eat, and take care of yourself better.  Taking care of pets is an added responsibility, but by feeding, exercising, and loving your pet successfully, you will sleep better at night.  

I have learned so much about relationships, responsibility, and love through having pets. There have been cats and dogs and fish in my life for as long as I can remember, as well as a few hamsters, turtles, lizards, and other creatures.  As a child, if there weren’t cats to catch in the house or garage, there were several to choose from in the barn.  We always had a dog, and I learned early on about the cycle of life and death through an experience with our dog Cocoa.  

The family dog had been with us since she was a puppy, but she’d always been a wanderer. She’d come back home every night though, her light brown fur muddy and wet, her short nose and pointy ears full of grass or poop or whatever else she’d gotten into.  One summer, however, there was a pack of dogs that started wandering the neighborhood. By neighborhood, I mean farm fields and forests. Animal control couldn’t catch them, even though they’d been spotted several times.  While they were around, Cocoa would go missing for days at a time. My dad finally figured she was running with the pack when she was gone. Where else could she be? One morning my dad went down to do chores like usual, but he came back up to the house after only a minute or two to get a shovel and towel.  He didn’t say anything, but left again and the day went on like normal. Except Cocoa didn’t come home that day. 

When I asked him about her that night, he told me she had run away with the pack of wild dogs and was probably going to be caught by animal control.  It wasn’t until a few days later, I realized where she really was. I confronted my dad and he admitted she’d been hit on the road, probably running with the pack. He apologized and confessed he hadn’t known how to tell me.  The whole family was pretty broken up for a few days, but as we remembered the fun times we had with her and planned for our next rescue dog, our hearts lightened and we knew we’d been blessed to have her and she us.  

Since then, I’ve lost many more pets, both cats and dogs, in various ways both mysterious and freakishly tragic. It seems like the ones we lose are always the ones we love the most. The first kitten my husband and I adopted together was named Cloey.  She was a grey tiger with white on her paws, tip of her tail, and nose.  She was a perky, feisty little thing when we first saw her. In college, she moved from house to apartment to house with us, staying spunky and adorable.  When we graduated from college and moved out into the country, she became a little more nervous, but still loved  my husband and me.  She liked to spend time outdoors, but mainly had to be outside because she had a tendency to mark her territory inside.  She didn’t like the litter box, which meant major messes for us. Cloey taught me that all pets are lovable, even when they are frustrating and picky and snotty.  Although toward the end of her life, Cloey’s temperment became less cuddly, I think it was only because she wasn’t suited to farm life. No matter how much trouble she caused, however, I’ll always remember her flying through the air chasing whatever toy I had found.  I can hear her making her little squeaking noises before she jumped on her toy.  I can see her barrelling down the stairs chasing her toy ball. She was the only cat we ever had that played soccer for us. She would bat that ball around all areas of the house.  The bedroom was her comfort zone and that’s where she did most of her cuddling. She’d curl up on my husband’s chest or at our feet and purr and purr until we fell asleep. Sometimes she’d sneak in between my legs and sleep there.  When she disappeared and never came back, my husband and I didn’t know what to think. She’d always stayed close to home, but we’d been spotting coyotes in the fields around the house and owls that flew over the farm.  This was the most difficult grief to deal with because of the mystery surrounding it. We looked around for her everywhere. We drove down roads and walked in ditches. We went out to the fields and forests and called her name. We knew she was microchipped, so hoped if someone took her to the humane society or animal shelter, they would have called us. Never finding out what happened to her made it so much harder to lose her.  The only comfort we had was that she was in a better place, somewhere where hopefully she was more relaxed and less anxious.  Again, remembering all the good and quirky times with her helped us realize how special she was and how fortunate we were to have found her and grown with her.  

One of Cloey’s companions, Angelina, was a short-haired tortoiseshell stray with a queen of the house attitude.  She was the smartest cat I’d ever seen and adored my husband as much as he adored her.  She had a piece of her tail missing from some kind of accident before us. It was tipped with white. Half her face was orange and half her face was black.  She was also one of the smallest cats we ever had and the only cat I’ve ever run across who gets carsick.  Her passion for being outdoors made us crazy.  She didn’t like to come in at night if the weather was nice, and pretty much thought she was invincible, although she was wary most times.  Losing her devastated my husband because again, she simply disappeared.  Her and Cloey were gone within a couple months of each other, and it broke our hearts because they’d been a pair.  With her rambunctious, loving, sassy nature, Angelina had left a hole that no other cat will be able to fill in our home.  Our daughter’s middle name is Angelina for that reason.    

Two cats that taught us how to love more responsibly were Sweetie and Spazzy. We had gotten both tortoiseshelled sisters from my mother and they were barn cats through and through. They loved attention, but longed to be outside, so we let them.  We gave them a good shelter and food and water, but before the winter was out, they were both coughing and wheezing. I asked my dad about it and he thought it was probably just distemper, a common barn cat disase that never really goes away. As both cats got worse, however, I should have trusted my gut and taken them to the vet. I came out to the garage one morning, to find the cold frozen body of Sweetie, curled up in her bed. Spazzy was curled up next her and wheezing, barely breathing. As I ran in the house, I called for my husband and grabbed the cat carrier and some towels. I loaded her in while he got the car ready, both of us with tears falling down our cheeks for Sweetie, who had truly been a sweetheart.  When we got to the vet, he had bad news.  Spazzy was too far gone with pneumonia for him to do anything but make her passing less painful and difficult.  My husband and I held each other and petted her as she finally relaxed into death.  Losing those two wonderful, hyper, loving cats through neglect taught us that animals don’t just survive.  Although we’d always given our animals shots and such, we’ve become much more vigilant about it and the small signs that can lead to big trouble.  Educating ourselves on what to look for and common diseases in animals helped us deal with the grief and guilt of losing those two special cats within hours of each other. 

Another special member of our household who we lost too soon was Cooper. He came to us in a roundabout way. Our garbage collector, Larry, knew a man in Iowa who was getting too old and sick to take care of his dog.  Since Larry also knew what a nice fenced-in yard we had and our other two dogs, he decided to ask Ian if we were looking for a third one. After feeding Ian a sob story of some sort, we were on our way to Iowa to pick up Trooper, who we renamed Cooper because we thought that’s what it was originally until we found his tags, which said Trooper.  Cooper loved to be outside. He was a Brittany Spaniel and more importantly to Ian, another male in the house.  Cooper’s home before us was a ten foot by ten foot kennel full of feces and straw and dirty water and some food.  The energy this dog had was unending and I’m so glad we had the chance to let him expend that energy. He got away from us on a walk once out in the country, and we lost him for a good day and a half before a lady finally caught him and called us.  He had run nearly eight miles away, and probably not in a straight line, either.  He also was the best fetcher we’ve ever had.  Even if he didn’t get the ball of the toss, he was the one that brought it right to our feet and dropped it.  He could’ve played this game for hours too.  When he was finally tired, he truly crashed, and if it would have been up to him, he would’ve fallen asleep right in your lap.

One winter, we had a freak huge snow storm.  The snow had piled up around the fence and the dogs kept getting out. We thought we had it dug out and blocked in to the point they couldn’t get out anymore, but when I came home from work one day, a semi-truck was stopped in front of our house with Cooper lying crushed in front of it.  The horror I felt at seeing such a vivacious, loving, adoring dog die in such a way comes back to haunt me today if I see any vehicle stopped in front of our house.  We buried him in a sled out by the corn bins and will never forget about him.  I cried every time I turned the corner to our house for several weeks after the accident, but focusing our attention on our other pets, who witnessed the tragedy, helped us get through the tough times. 

The most recent and definitely the most painful has been losing Rush.  When we got Rush, he was dirty, flea-infested, and overweight.  He had been declawed, but not spade.  He was scared, defensive, and not very attractive overall. However, we had rescued him from a friend of a friend who had found him but couldn’t take care of him, and didn’t feel like we could give him back. My husband gave him a bath and brushed him and we eventually earned his trust and love. He had a beautiful gray coat with gold-green eyes that took up half of his face.  He would roll for his food and try to trip you if you ignored him.  He did tricks for treats.  Cuddling, however, was one of his favorite past times. He’d curl up on you and try to rub his chin on your chin.  Sometimes he’d sneak in a lick to your face because he was actually trying to clean his face.  For awhile, he was so fat he could not clean his own butt, so we had to put him on a diet, but from then on we lovingly called him fatass.  Despite being obese and one of our older cats, Rush loved to play.  He looked like a grey teddy bear, with his big round cheeks and belly.  His favorite position to sleep in was stretched out with his belly out.  Although he loved to lounge inside, he liked to spend nice days outdoors and even caught a rabbit once when we first moved to the farm.  (That was the last rabbit we ever saw on the farm!)  

Rush was our other male and my husband’s favorite cat, close to Angelina.  What makes Rush’s passing so awful to me is that it was my fault.  Of course I didn’t do it on purpose, and it wasn’t even that preventable.  It just kills me that if I had done this or that differently our Rushman, as we called him, would still be with us.  We’ll never be able to replace Rush.  For whatever reason on a warm day in early March, he was sleeping on top of the open garage door.  All of the vehicles were out of the garage, since I was running to daycare to pick my daughter up.  I stopped quickly at the house after I got her and was going into town to see my husband. I’ll never know why I felt the need to shut the garage door then, or why I didn’t watch it go all the way down, but I pushed the button, watched it go halfway down, turned the car around and never looked back. I even had to stop at the end of the driveway and wait for a neighbor’s passing truck. I’m still not sure how it happened other than he must have slipped, but Rushman got caught in one of the slats of the door and my sister-in-law found him hanging from his neck there hours later before we got home.  It was the most tragic, confusing, awful homecoming I’ve ever had…even worse than Cooper’s once I got everything straightened out.  With Cooper’s I could blame someone else, although my husband and I both blamed ourselves for not clearing the snow out.  With Rush, I could only blame myself.  There was no reason to put the garage door down. There was time to watch and make sure nothing got caught in it.  There was time to look in the rearview mirror before I pulled out of the driveway.  There were so many small things I could have changed that would have saved Rushman’s life.  Although he was getting up there in years, it had barely crossed our minds that we might lose Rush, or any of these pets. I learned to not take a single moment for granted with your pets because you never know what can happen.    

Yes, in the end, there will probably be grief and hurt, but knowing how to deal with this emotion helps one get through it. Having a pet is worth the grief in the end. The memories and experiences can never be replaced and are priceless.   The importance of the end comes through the journey, and each of these special members of my family have made their mark on mine.  

How to Deal with Losing a Pet

• Make peace with the fact that it’s over.  I have spent hours torturing myself about not being able to save Rushman.  Yet each day, I come a little closer to the realization that no matter how tragic and horrifying his death was, it is over and there’s nothing I can do about it. 
• Remember the good times. This is a bittersweet step, but talking or writing about your special pet will help you get over him or her.  You will cry, you’ll hopefully laugh, and you’ll come to terms with the fact that you were lucky to have him as long as you did.
• Stay busy. After giving yourself an appropriate time to mourn, get busy again.  Life goes on and the more you focus on the present and less on the past, the more opportunities for happiness you’ll have. Your pet would want you to be happy.  
• Adopt another. Many people might not agree with this, and it is definitely a personal choice.  The timing and reasons behind the adoption are important. Don’t do it too quickly, and don’t do it because you’re trying to replace what you’ve lost.  You can never replace a lost pet, however, you can rescue another brand new personality to add to your household.  

If you’re reading this, I have to assume you’ve lost a pet at some point. I would love comments and feedback on how you deal with grief.  I hope this article helps.

UNEMPLOYMENT LINES

I never thought I’d see the day

at least ‘til I retired,

that I wouldn’t have a job;

only once have I been fired

and I’ve enjoyed all the perks

and benefit of working

and enjoyed my employ…

but now I’m really hurting.

Being in the welfare line

does not bring a moment’s joy

while I’ve used up every cent I saved

while I was gainfully employed.

There is nothing quite so humbling

as being unemployed

after years and years of steady work,

of signing in, punching the clock;

and now not having that paycheck,

well, it sure hurts a lot…

But I find I’m not alone

in the unemployment line;

the line extends around the block,

folks that were doing fine

but are now worrying tomorrow;

seems it’s a sign of the times…

We wonder, how will we ever make it?

Brother can you spare a dime?

It is scary being unemployed

and in that unemployment line,

to find no job day after day…

It sure hurts a lot

when you go to apply for any job

and find the front door locked,

a sign, going out of business;

shops, mills and factories,

down-sizing or shutting their doors;

it’s a sad sight to see.

It leaves you feeling hopeless

to know you are not able

to keep a roof over your head

or put food your table;

to wake up in the morning

to wonder again what you can do

to make it through another day,

to somehow just get through.

I’m seeing homeless on the street

who once were doing fine.

They’ve worked hard for most their life

and I’ve worked most of mine

but the days look dark and gloomy

here in the unemployment line

feeling like an empty, worthless shell;

Seems it’s a sign of the times.

We wonder if we’re going to make it…

Brother can you spare a dime.

Although the grief may feel unbearable at times when someone that you love takes his or her own life, you are going to have to cope in order to go on with your own. This person is no longer with you physically, but they will stay in your heart, probably for as long as you live. The following are three coping mechanisms that I have used in order to deal with the grief and mourning that I have experienced, having lost my father.

Coping Mechanism #1-Surround yourself with other people and do not isolate yourself, as tempting as it may be at times. It is alright to spend some time by yourself with your feelings, but if you find that you are going for days without seeing other people, this is not a good thing. Mourning alone is not only difficult, but you are going to risk entering an abyss of depression that is going to be difficult to climb out of. Being around people that are grieving alongside you can help you tremendously, as you can remember the person that you’ve lost, sometimes laughing and sometimes crying, but doing so together. You should not shut out people who didn’t know your loved one, either. These people still care about you and will want to help you all that they can.

Coping Mechanism #2-Forgive the person that has left you, by their own choice. For me, this was very difficult and took many years. I had to develop the maturity and life lessons of my own to even begin to understand that what my father did wasn’t just a selfish decision that he made with no regard for me or others that loved him. When a person is in the state of mind and heart that they are when suicide becomes an option for them, they have dealt with their pain as well as they could. They are not trying to hurt you, even though they do, and they may even believe that you would be better off without them. There are mental issues going on that prevent them from understanding the after-effects for the people being left without them.

Coping Mechanism #3-As far as faith and religious beliefs go, there are all sorts of different beliefs regarding what happens to a person’s soul after a suicide. You may have your own and that is just fine, but I have found that there are many people (most of which don’t know anyone who has committed suicide) who believe that all suicides are destined for eternity in Hell. I will briefly explain their reasoning and my argument against that. They believe that suicide is a sin that you can’t repent of so therefore, you are going to have unforgiven sin with you when you die. By that same belief, then, the person who tells a “little white lie” and is immediately struck by a car and instantly killed is also going to Hell. They also had no time to repent. It makes no sense. There is also, I believe, a God who understands mental illness, which is often the case with suicide. Do not allow one person’s religious belief to determine yours.

Coping with the grief of a loved one’s suicide is incredibly difficult. There are so many emotions that will accompany your mourning, from anger, to guilt, to sadness, and everything in between. Remember not to isolate yourself, to work on forgiveness, and to let your faith be your own. Doing these things will give you a start on coping with a grief that can fade with time, but a memory of a loved one that will stay with you forever.

TIME HEALS BUT FORGIVENESS MAKES YOU WELL

I’m along in years now, elderly, and like all of us my life has had its ups and down.  Life is never easy for any of us.  Loved ones leave or die and we feel a horrendous loss like a part of our heart, our life has been ripped right out of us.  Someone gossips about us and spreads rumors without knowing all the facts or twisting truth taking things out of context and injecting their own conclusions and it tarnishes your good reputation.  We over-extend our self financially and end up with financial issues that cause us grief much to our distress and at times, our embarrassment.   

We all sometimes make bad choices or others make bad choices and we get hurt, emotionally, physically, financially and even spiritually.  Sometimes we find it difficult to get beyond the pain, the grief, the hurt, the anger and the frustration that is left behind in the wake of the injury. 

Sometimes we can fix it.  More often we can’t and we have to just pick up the pieces and move on.  It is not an easy thing to do but time heals, if we let it.  This is when you need to truly live just one day at a time; don’t cling too yesterday and don’t project the future, just live today.  It is all we really have anyhow, just today.  We can’t go back and change one single moment of the past.  It is over and done with.  We do not know, cannot know what the future holds or even if we will see a new tomorrow.  None of us know that.  We can hope and dream and even plan for days to come but we cannot know what tomorrow will bring until it becomes today. 

Eventually, after a few days, weeks, maybe even a few months, depending on what the situation is, the immediate pain subsides.  The anger, the feeling of loss or the embarrassment eases and slowly fades into the shadows of your mind.  Time heals but it also has a tendency to leave scars behind.  Too often we find our self hiding behind those scars.  With withdraw into our own shell.  We stop truly communicating.  We over-react to a look or a comment that we might otherwise blow off or simply ask, “Did I hear what I think you said,” and ask for an explanation…and worse we refuse to let go and we dwell on all the hurt.  

Sometimes we even do the unthinkable, what we would not do.  Instead of doing unto others as we would have them do unto us, we do unto others as others have done unto us and the cycle of damage rolls on from person to person and generation to generation.  As long as we allow past injury to dictate our present behavior it will never go away and nothing will change,  It will always be there to haunt you.  They say time heals, maybe, but it sure can leave some ugly scars behind.

It took me a long time to get this, really get this, accept it and put it into practice in my own life.  It is not time that truly heals…FORGIVENESS is the true healer.  It is hard to forgive when you have been seriously hurt.  It is hard to forgive those who have hurt you.  It is hard to forgive yourself for your own wrong doings, bad choices but learning to forgive is the only way you will ever truly heal.

Forgiveness is a whole lot more than “I’m sorry.”  “Okay, I forgive you.”  That is just the beginning.  You may never get an apology but you need to forgive anyhow.

Let me give you an example.  When I was a child and even into my young adult years there was someone who was treating me very badly, saying bad things about me and attempting and occasionally succeeding to do bad things to me.  I feared and hated this person.  I even tried to tell others whom I thought would help and do something about it what was going on but to no avail.  This person wouldn’t do that.

I had misunderstood.  I was the one to blame.  They wouldn’t believe me or maybe they did believe me but couldn’t or wouldn’t accept the possibilities or maybe were too insecure themselves to help. 

For years I feared and hated this person and avoided this person as much as possible.

I would literally quake inside if I found myself in a situation where I had to be alone in this person’s presence.  Eventually I learned to forgive, forgive for my own sake because I couldn’t live with that pain anymore.  I couldn’t live with the fear and the hate and ever truly move on in my life and be happy.  I couldn’t change what had happened.  I couldn’t make this person a better person.  I couldn’t make this person respect me.  I couldn’t make this person love me for who I truly am.  There was no way to retaliate and not bring myself down to their level of wrongness.  There was nothing I could do and it left me hurting and broken until I forgave this person and truly meant it.  You have to learn to love (agape kind of love) the person even when you abhor the behavior.   You have to come to recognize it is not the person you hate, it is the behavior.  Without the negative behavior you could really like that person.  It is love (agape love) that heals and forgiveness that makes you well and the love and forgiveness comes in time.  So I suppose, in a sense of the word, time heals.

Forgiving a person does not mean you ever have to like or trust that person again.  It doesn’t mean you have to be their friend or even be around them.  It doesn’t me that you will forget but you will learn from the past and are better able to keep yourself out of such situations.  It is the forgiveness that actually makes you well and able to truly move on and not let clouds of yesterday darken the sunshine of today.  You can finally dump the garbage and all that old baggage that is making your life painful, sorrowful and stuck in a bad place.  Forgiveness does that.

Not too long ago I talked with this person and I told them exactly how I felt and what their actions had done to me, how it had hurt me all these many years.  I told them I forgave them and even though I loved them as a person I could not like them because of their behavior toward me.  I did not and do not like the behavior and that for a time it had left me very broken.  Unfortunately the person laughed and said. “Yeh, but I enjoyed it and I told you no one would ever believe you.  I made damned sure of that.” 

For just a few seconds I cringed and recoiled like this person had just punched me in the gut.  For just a few seconds I wanted to strike out as venomously as I knew how but I didn’t.  I just walked away.  This person knows my feelings.  This person knows I am no longer holding a grudge or any hate toward them personally and that it was, is their actions and attitudes I hate and will no longer allow to hurt me.  I have forgiven them and shifted the burden.  It is now their baggage, their burden to carry and what they do with it is their problem.  I will probably never forget those injuries from the past but neither will I dwell on them or use them as an excuse for my own behavior.  It is finally over and I am well.

Twirl me into happiness, and sing me into joy.
Show me more important things than one cold-hearted boy.
Open up my eyes to laughter I have never known.
Make me strong so I can know I’ll make it on my own.

Rivers beneath my smiling eyes are steaming into hearts.
They keep a warm a different place for each of this song’s parts.
People awe and tremble when my true joy pushes through.
Now they see the river’s steam is making smiles too.

Whisper close into my ear that they can see the steam.
Remind me why I broke my heart and let this river stream.
They’ve wondered where I’ve gone as I’ve been swimming underneath.
They want me to return before I hang my Christmas wreath.

“I’m back!” I say, “I’m stronger now! At last, I see the light.”
It’s time I wrap it up, I think, this long and dreary night.
Goodbye, my love. I held you close. You meant so much to me.
Dancing with the broken-hearted turns grief into glee.

Walking into high school this morning I was blind-sided by a semi. David Haas, my friend since freshman year, was captured by the most fowl and hideous creature known to man, suicide. Hearing this, my pile turned into a pile of warm bubbling mush. Left in absolute shock, I trembled with emotions and stumbled to class. The exuberant man I had known for four years was out of my life forever. Still, I haven’t been able to accept the fact he’s gone.

At what point does a man decide to end it?

“A permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

Walking through the school I watched as everyone’s emotions flooded over the halls. You see people with bright red faces from constant grief. Truly a depressing sight to witness, the dark black cloud will smile sinisterly over us forever…

I’ve dealt with suicide multiple times throughout life. Accepting the fact David is gone will be extremely difficult, and watching my peers crumble to tears will stick to my conscience till I die.

Where is the light?

Maybe no more exists, the grueling beast of depression can be so difficult to overcome. The Haas family will be in our hearts forever, there is no way to explain the amount of pain, which will beat upon them, daily. The next days are gong to be unbearable, and the only way to make it through will be unity of the student body.

I approached Emily, Davids girlfriend, with a blank look across my face. As if I even knew what to say. Nothing anyone says is going to change the situation. It’s best to express the remorse you feel and let it be. David, although had some deceiving last words, was one of the most kind hearted friends one could ask for.

Maybe this finally is the year we realize how important it is to call upon our friends. Work out issues and any agonizing pain that lurks within. I love you David, your impact will continue to change the lives of everyone who knew you.

Our family were living near the seaside at the time and it was during a late evening stroll along the beach that I first encountered a group of people in their twenties, sat near a little camp fire on the edge of the beach, all in a circle around something.  Usually you might see kids sharing a bottle of cider or roasting some fish they had caught, but I wondered what these ones were up to as they seemed to be chanting or murmuring low.  I didn’t want to go over to them to see, but came a little nearer, straining my ear to hear what they were saying.  A girl was quietly saying something that sounded like “If there is anyone there make contact,” and I guessed that they were having some kind of seance or something, and since that sort of thing spooked me I just continued on my way.  I didn’t think any of them had noticed me pass until a few weeks later.

When I finished my school day, I went home and changed my clothes and went out to deliver the Belfast Telegraph and magazine orders for a local newsagent.  It was when I was on my round that a guy called Trevor came out of his house to get into his car and when he saw me he just stood by the car, an old Austin Cambridge his father had given him when he was old enough to drive.  When I was about to walk past him he said “Hi.  Saw you on the beach the other Friday.”

We got chatting and he asked if I wanted to join their circle.  I told him that those things scared me and I wouldn’t really be interested, but he said that there was nothing to be scared of.  “It’s all just a bit of a laugh.  Think about it.  Come over and sit with us next time you see us down there.  We’re always at the back of the old grey house on the cliff.”  I nodded, more out of politeness and as a means to get away from him, back to my paper round and away out of that conversation before being coaxed into something I didn’t want to do.

However, my Dad didn’t nickname me “Nosey Rosie” for nothing, and I thought about what they were getting up to so often that I gave into temptation on a late summer evening in late September, just as the nights were drawing in and becoming cooler, and I went behind the old grey house on the cliff.  I didn’t go down there where their circle met.  Instead, I sneaked into the gardens of the old house through a small gap in the overgrown privet hedge which surrounded it, and down to a spot were I could lie on the grass and look down there on them.  I chose a place where there was long grass where the might not see me watching them.  I bought my Dad’s binoculars so that I could get a good close up look at what was happening.

The evening was a pleasant one and still light enough to see clearly enough though there was a glimpse of a few night stars in the sky.  The sea was calm.  There were seven of them.  Trevor sat between two blond girls and there was only one other guy there.  I knew him to see around the area but didn’t know his name.  Dark haired, fan of Elton John as he often blared his music when I passed his house delivering my papers.  On one occasion he made a rude comment to me, which I ignored.  Basically, in a lewd way he asked if I wanted to do something and being a shy virgin and not that kind of girl it had my face glowing red and I walked past with my head down, feeling uneasy.  No… I did not like that guy or people like him! 

The glow of their rock encircled camp fire made it easy for me to see what they were doing.  At first it didn’t look like much.  The skinny dark haired girl in a lime green caftan and jeans got something out of an Indian shoulder bag and placed it in the middle of the circle.  Raising the binoculars to my eyes I saw clearly that it was a Ouija board.  Now I have to admit I had been in kids houses where we had bits of paper which had letters of the alphabet written on them laid out on a table and an upturned glass in the middle and we all put our fingers on the glass and did that thing where some idiot is always spelling things out but you never know quite who.  That was just fooling around.  No harm in it.  Right?  Wrong!  It is just one step down from using a real Ouija board and opening yourself up to the occult.

In the light of the flickering campfire and in the still of the evening they began chanting in such a low voice that I could not hear what they were saying, but the noise was as ringing in my ears like Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells. Listen to it now while you read on.

Their tinny chanting made me feel uneasy yet I was totally absorbed in what they were doing.  Clouds started to darken and the dark haired girl began taking the lead in what they were doing, murmuring what sounded like instructions.  At that point they were all holding hands in the circle and not touching the Ouija board.  They all had their heads bowed as they sat cross legged around it. She continued the deep murmuring, then took something else from beside her.  In the light from the crackling salty driftwood fire I saw the flash of a blade as she pointed it skyward, then suddenly plunged it into the ground. 

The group all raised their arms outstretched and skyward and there went out an indescribable oddly joy-filled loud communal and strange kind of praise where none of the words were clearly heard and nothing was intelligible.  This made my gut feel like butterflies were fluttering and dying in it.  I felt so uncomfortable I was about to slither backwards from my hiding place when I felt a presence behind me which arrested all my movements.  “Oh my God!“  I feared the worst!  Seconds of tension felt like minutes.  Rustling grass behind me to the left.  “Oh Jesus!”  I smelt a warm waft of garlic, like hot breath on my neck.  “Oh God, oh God oh God!“  My bladder started to feel as if I would wet myself if I looked around.  The circle leader was now standing and had her arms skyward, looking up and saying something about “Bide within the the law you must, in perfect love and perfect trust.”  I couldn’t focus on the words as the presence now slithering by my side was scaring the hell out of me. 

“Shh!  It’s only me,” the garlic breath whispered. I jerked my head round.  It was Giovanni, my brother’s school friend.  I slapped him on the arm. 

“You scared the sh.. out of me!” 

He grinned and nodded for me to watch.

“For tread the circle thrice about to keep unwelcome spirits out,” she chanted, upon which they all got up, joined hands and slowly circled the Ouija board three times.  “To bind the spell well every time, let the spell be said in rhyme,” and they all sat cross legged again with hands held as she chanted the rhyme.  I couldn’t make out all she said, but remember something about “Four times the major sabbats mark in the light and in the dark,” and something about wheels, seasons and her saying “Heed the flower, bush and tree, by the Lady Blessed you’ll be.”

Giovanni took a look through the binoculars then passed them back to me whispering “Do you watch these freaks often?” 

I just shook my head and put my finger over my lips to indicate that he should keep quiet.  I didn’t want to miss a thing. 

“Mind the threefold laws,” she was droning, “you should three times bad and three times good.”  I can’t remember the rest but by then Trevor was pouring wine into a silver goblet which they passed around the circle counter-clockwise, each taking a sip and returning it to Trevor who passed the remains to their leader for her to drain it. 

Then they began murmuring over the Ouija board with their fingers on the planchette as it moved slowly here and there.  I used the binoculars to try to see what was being spelt out but they were not a good set and I couldn’t focus in that far clearly, or maybe I just wasn’t doing it right.  Giovanni nudged me in the ribs wanting a look so I passed them to him.  He didn’t look long either.

The camp fire crackled and threw out sparks as burning sea salty driftwood usually does, but some of the loud crackles made me jump as I was in a state of high expectation and concentrating, listening intently to try to make out what they were saying.   Some of it sounded like foreign languages, yet guttural and alarming.  The fire threw up a sudden explosion of sparks which made my stomach churn.

“Do you see that?”

I saw nothing, just the group below continuing what they were doing.

“Jeez!  Do you believe it?”

I looked at Giovanni to see where he was looking.

“Man!  I think I’m on LSD!”

He wasn’t looking at the people in the circle, he was looking beyond them, so I whipped my head around to see whatever he was looking at.  Straining my eyes in the growing darkness, there they were.  Shapes, transparent, blurry, dancing shapes, swirling and misty.  “What the heck are they?”

I looked at Giovanni again, his eyes transfixed, mouth lying slightly open in amazement. 

When I turned again the shapes had suddenly become less ethereal and more formed.  Still misty and transparent but giving me the impression that whatever they were, they were somehow trying to solidify.  I’d had enough.  This was getting too scary.  I looked at Giovanni and indicated to him that I was going.  He shook his head and grabbed my sleeve wanting me to stay, but I frowned and whispered “No,” and slithered out of there, taking to my heels!

Back home and safely tucked into my nice warm bed, I tried to rationalise it all, telling myself that I was just winding myself up.  It could all be explained simply.  There had to be some rational explanation.  Mists rolling in from the sea?  The fire light playing tricks on it?  “Aw! It was nothing!“ 

I slept well and went to school as normal the next day, convinced that they were all into some kind of witchcraft and that I really didn’t want to get involved with them.

At the end of School Assembly when they gave out the notices for the week, the headmaster said “I have some sad news to impart.  I had a phone call just moments ago.  Many of you know Giovanni Campbell, who sadly passed away last night.  The School on behalf of its pupils have sent our condolences to Derek and Maria Campbell on the loss of their son.” 

In class a number of girls were weeping quietly.  Even the teacher broke down.  I couldn’t believe this was really happening.

When my brother and I met at break time we were both shocked and puzzled by this.  We thought maybe someone had made a prank call since I had been with him last night and when I left him, he was very much alive and well.  Neither of us could take it in as real.

At home, Mum told us that Maria Campbell had phoned her to let us know that Giovanni was dead.  He had not came home at 10pm as he usually did on a school night so his Father went out with the dog looking for him.  Knowing that us kids sometimes hung out behind the old house he went there to see if the boys had been having a sneaky drink of cider or something.  It was the dog which started straining on the leash and acting in a disturbed manner which led to him finding Giovanni slumped over against a tree trunk, wrists and jeans covered in blood.  He had slit his wrists. 

Why?  What had he seen which had driven him to this?  To this day we will never know. 

What really annoyed me was that the last time I was in Victoria Cemetery laying a wreath on my Mother’s grave I noticed that someone had vandalised Giovanni’s grave.  His Mother, being Italian had wanted him to have a traditional Italian headstone with a photo of him on it.  Some heartless vandal had chipped the photo off of the headstone.  Whatever possesses them to do such senseless acts of vandalism?

So many struggle to build a bigger, higher, thicker, stronger wall to block out the other; to increase the sexual differential, to satisfy the stereotype, to alienate and subjugate the other, only to accomplish a certain sameness. How often we corrupt and putrefy the object of our affections by casting the stain of guilt.

Of course in any relationship we can never know more than half the story, and even that half is told subreptitiously….as we tell it to ourselves, tell it to our friends, and tell it to our most intimate companions.

We like to say that others are afraid of commitment. We like to think that others are not as free as we are. We may think that we are special to someone, or that we can be saviours to those who are not free, or lack commitment, but in most cases (if not all) we are merely moralizing unto others, while projecting our own shadow of doubt upon them.

Freedom and commitment are not absolute. What are we free from? To what are we committing? What are we fleeing? To what are we running?

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It seemed to pass unnoticed by the vast majority yesterday, but the memory is still vivid of that awful moment, just after midnight August 31 1997,when Diana, Princess of Wales, was involved in that horrific Paris tunnel car crash which led to her death shortly afterwards.

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The horror, shock and simple disbelief that gripped the entire western world was a palpable force, so incredibly powerful that when her family, the Spencers, established a charitable fund in her name, $150 million worth of donations poured in within the first week.

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Diana was the first royal to break the mould of pomp and mystery surrounding the royal family, truly bringing a human touch to contact with the public, something they valued so much she was known as the people’s princess, much loved by all.

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Diana was undoubtedly, in the eyes of the British public, a victim of her own goodness, married to a man whose heart belonged elsewhere, struggling with weight problems and issues of and self-esteem, made worse by the humiliation of her very public divorce from Prince Charles, yet she still shone like a beacon.

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Bulimia and depression dogged her life, made public by an avaricious press, whose hunger for news was blamed for the car chase that led to her death, yet she was incredibly selfless. Her deep compassion about AIDS, in the early 80s, and her willingness to hug victims at a time of public paranoia about such contact, helped change the way AIDS patients were treated and endeared her even more to the public.

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As the 80s ended, she then put her life at risk often in her campaign highlighting the horror of land-mine overuse and efforts to outlaw the weapons, which led to a Nobel Peace prize in 1997.  What most appealed to everyone about this amazing woman was the simple fact of how contradictory she was.

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Born into a very wealthy family, she nonetheless had the common touch, and was fiercely independent, dropping out of school, and taking work as nanny, teacher’s aide, and housekeeper, despite the family wealth, and she would often take the unheard of step of being a royal prepared to wear jeans in public.

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Diana hated the press, but knew how to play them, dropping 30 pounds after Prince William was born and becoming fashionably thin, and prepared to drop in and visit cancer, AIDS, and leprosy patients when there was no press present, her activism seemingly truly rooted in genuine concern, creating a public image of powerful popularity, much to the disgust of the royal family.

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The biggest change that this iconic woman effected was that within the royal family itself, who could no longer distance themselves from the British people. Forced, by public opinion, to accept that her wayward ex-daughter-in-law was beloved, on The day prior to the September 6th internment Queen Elizabeth not only made a public statement expressing the family grief, but also ordered the Buckingham Palace flag to half-mast, breaking with a 1000 year-old tradition of an honor reserved for reigning monarchs only in the past.

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I was among the millions who wept buckets that day, because this incredible woman had touched me just as much as the rest of the world, her tragedy and selflessness a lesson to us all, and the cruelty of her untimely death especially poignant as she had once again, apparently found love, only to have it so savagely ripped away.

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Hard to believe that 14 years have now passed since that terrible night, but the memory of this iconic lady will always burn bright, and the Elton John tribute song, based on Candle in the Wind, about Marilyn Monroe, will forever be remembered as the epitaph of a tragic, beautiful princess who deserved so much more in life. R.I.P. Diana, you will forever be the peoples princess, and we your humble fans.

Pregnancy in itself is a very emotional time for a woman but terminating that pregnancy knowingly can cause a woman to suffer in ways that only they can imagine. Abortion although has been made legal in many countries like USA, is still considered a sin in most if not all religions.

Pregnancy – Terminating The Child

Knowing this and still attempting to kill her own baby causes a woman to feel overwhelming emotions at once. Guilt, regret, anger, frustration, loneliness and helplessness are only a few emotions that she has to go through. Guilt because deep down in her heart she knows this wasn’t the only option.

Regret & Grief – Emotions Inside A Woman

Regret because of all the possibilities the baby could have brought. Studies show that many women under the pressure of a recent abortion are driven to extreme measures and might commit suicide. Women suffer from depression, trauma and eating disorders.

Why Abortion Is Done – Psychological Effects

The decision to abort a child is usually made in extreme pressure or when there seems to be no way out. The parents seem to forget that adoption is better than abortion and can help both sides. Couples who are unable to have children often see adoption as the only way to start families. There are many companies that work towards connecting the two families. Thus adoption became a way of avoiding desperate measures like abortion.

Abortion – Young Women Who Are A Victim

Often the cause of abortion can be that the mothers to be are young and unmarried. Not ready to take on responsibility of a family and unwilling to go through the torture of pregnancy they prefer aborting the child before it influences their lives any further.

The Popular Trends – Mothers Which Abort Their Child

Surveys show that most women who got an abortion were around the ages 15-19. Most abortions terminate ‘accidental’ pregnancy. Some couples have an abortion because of gender determination. In such cases abortion becomes illegal. Other couples have an abortion due to financial and marital problems.

Confused Emotions – Life After Abortion

Although immediate reaction after a wanted abortion is relief, time leads to other emotions floating on the surface. Guilt and pain come rushing back and a feeling of loss is created. Such women often want to get pregnant as quickly as possible. They hope to replace their loss with a new baby. Such couples often experience problems in their marriage.

Traumatizing Experience For A Woman

Women also start to feel themselves guilty from a religious view and thus try and repress their feelings and hide them from the world. They think that if they pretend to the world that they are okay the pain might stop.  Avoiding pain leads to avoiding people in general. Seeing people opens their wounds again. And they retreat into their own shells. Personality changes are very common in women who just had an abortion.

Career Choices – Looking Towards Adoption

Women might also decide to base their career choices on their experience. Advocates for adoption, consultants or therapists for couples considering adoptions might just be looking for ways to end or lessen their grief. Women who run companies that organize adoption might just be looking for ways to convince other women that abortion is not the only answer.

The Abortion Aftermath

God created life and gave it natural beauty. Those who destroy the natural life are often met with punishment. Destroying of trees and killing of wildlife are small acts that are frowned upon. But the murder of a living human being is considered to be the most evil act there is. After that there is no coming back. Then why the murder of a baby, though not yet in the world but breathing, is an act that is considered normal.

These are the psychological conditions caused after terminating a pregnancy and how women are affected by it.