It's A Fine Line Between Mercy Killing And Murder

Deciding the fate of another being's life is not a deed to be undertaken recklessly or in haste. Which is why my partner in crime, my hubby Brian, and I are taking a day by day approach on choosing a date to kill our 15 year old blue-eyed beautiful child. Mind you, it's perfectly legal here to engage in a murder for hire. Brian and I will issue the order and charge it on our Visa card, but someone else will inject the poison, declare him dead and hand us his ashes in a black plastic box. All included in the price. Clinically clean and tidy. Except for one problem: we love the little bugger with our entire souls.
Shea is the unsuspecting future victim of this horrific crime. His Sea of Cortez brilliant blue eyes sparkle with love and devotion. He devours his meals with such gusto, a gourmet cook couldn't be prouder. His absolute loyalty and devotion to us make us feel like pond scum. Gratefully Shea is mostly deaf so he can't hear when we openly discuss where to spread his ashes in the definite future. Although paradoxically, he livens up and begins to limp around us, as if saying " I'm fine, I'm feeling better now". Brian and I darkly joke that as long as we keep mentioning his funeral, maybe Shea will stubbornly stick around. After all, he is bossy, this alpha male Australian Shepherd of ours. Yes, of course he's a dog, who do you think he was???
I regretfully came to the brutal realization that I can't "fix" old age. Shea's arthritis, a condition worsened by his grand old Frisbee days, is destroying his quality of life. I didn't surmise that by keeping him healthy all his life, his body would give out before his heart. As much as we his parents desperately pray that he will die in his sleep, his robustly beating heart won't fail him, just us. It seems life is not without irony.
So every day, we wait. Wait for a sign. An undeniable signal that will justify euthanizing him. The cruelty of arthritis destroying his knees and hips is frustrating. How is this not a controllable disease?? Is this the fate that awaits the rest of us who've exercised and eaten right all our lives? The answer is yes, it is. Our bodies will betray us in the end, ungrateful bastards. Except we will wither away in an antiseptic hospital bed, drugged up to the point of being comatose, and dying of starvation, a painful death to be sure. Nobody to put us out of our misery, no mercy killing for us. Some argue euthanasia is murder, Dr. Kevorkian went to prison for such an act. Yet, if you've ever seen someone terminally ill, the swiftness of the angel of death is welcomed.
I know Shea's death will be an act of mercy when the time finally arrives. My bouncing Tigger not able to walk on his own four legs will be the sign we need. Until then, my hope remains unabated as I continue to stuff my huggingly soft, furry one with anti-inflammatories, glucosamine, Cetyl M, omega 3's, ginger, massage and showers of kisses.

Patience Is An Elusive Virtue

Over the years, I've honed the important skill of patience. Painstakingly cultivated through meditation. It's never been my strong suit, yet I am now able to suspend the mind and patiently wait for whatever I'm needing to present itself. Allowing the mind to ebb and flow in a horizontal plane, not attaching judgement or thought, just giving patience the space and time it requires to play it all out. In a perfect world, that is. The Universe can be wicked, devious and mischievous. As she was last week. I was minding my own business when she side kicked and upended my emotional apple cart, spilling Granny Smith's onto the dirt path. I frantically chased them, desperate as they quickened their escape by rolling downhill. Except the Granny Smith's aren't apples at all. They are grace, gratitude, gratefulness, empathy, courage, patience...you get the picture. Freshly plucked at their ripest, lovingly nurtured by me, specifically picked to feed me through a family crisis. I watched helplessly as hungry Munchinklanders, a tin woodsman, a lion, a straw man and an odd-looking farm girl snatched up my fruit, smarting at their luck. I reproachfully glanced over at the wooden cart and caught sight of a few apples resting on the corner edge. My hopes quickly dashed as I reached in to grab one and noted only bruised, wormholed, rotten emotional apples left - rudeness, ego, selfishness, indifference, fear and  impatience. No way I'm burdening myself with those, so I twirled on my heels and hiked up the hill to hand pick more fruit from the tree of life. This time I promise to be more selective.
Life throws obstacles (or tornadoes in Dorothy's case) onto our carefully laid brick path to help us find our character and our flaws. As we stumble, our friends pick us up, oil can in hand and help us along the way. When I see the wizard of Oz, I am asking for patience. What will you ask for?
 P.S. - I am deeply grateful to my friends and family for their support last week, thank you.

Cloudy With A Chance Of Hope

After a brutal, beyond infernal week of 110+ degrees in Phoenix, I awoke to partly sunny skies. Could it be...clouds? In this arid desert, clouds are a God send, nature's way of teasing us with the remote possibility of rain, of which we've only received an inch this entire year. These cumulus clouds signal the arrival of monsoon, our version of the rainy season. As I gazed up into the heavens and welcomed the sight of dark grey clouds, the simile did not escape me. Almost 5 months since Anne's death and the darkness that I was shoved to live in, slowly recedes giving way to a cloudy outlook. A change I embrace after such a long exile.

Grief is a stubborn unwelcome guest and fickle, too. Just as I think I'm in the clear, it whacks me on the forehead and almost unconscious. It must possess the gift of invisibility, as I NEVER see it coming. Grief has no manners either, or it would know how rude it is to enter uninvited via a closed front door. No noticing the none too subtle doormat stating "LEAVE". Grief took no hint from it, evidently it's illiterate or it would be reading my blog posts relating to its visit. Don't you think 5 months is way too long for a house guest?? One of its most annoying traits is insomnia. This killjoy will sneak into my bedroom in the dark of night, and invade my dreams until I wake up with a nightmare. It seems misery loves company, especially at 3AM. I can't even shower without grief skulking in, and really, that's just indecent. If happiness were poison, grief would be the antidote. Life too good? Don't worry, grief to the rescue. If grief were on match.com, its profile would read: Lookin' for a lousy time? Call me, my no. is 555-PAIN. I am done with this visitor, but nobody wants it. I placed an ad on Craigslist partly stating " Free house guest to a good or bad home. Doesn't eat, drink or speak. Can be depressing, rude, overbearing, and a general pest." Maybe I'm being too honest. Perhaps I'll change it to say the following " Feeling lonely? This roommate is the perfect companion, always around. Will not leave food in the fridge for months because it doesn't eat. Got rowdy neighbors? Send this roommate over. Guaranteed party pooper!" I think I'll repost it today.

Joy Is Riding An Elephant to Happytown

They say it's the journey, not the destination. Yeah got it, but I'm antsy to reach Happytown and can't understand why I chose one of the slowest mammals on the planet to take me there. His handler, who has an uncanny resemblance to Gandhi, assures me Ganesh knows the way to joy and just enjoy the ride. My "ride" being an elephant, a very special elephant as I will find out. Still doubtful, I reluctantly nod in understanding. This is my last chance to depart on my journey before the rainy season begins. Mounted on Ganesh, we wander off down a rural, dusty path headed into the unknown. The handler leaves me with one dire warning, "Do not be tempted by the distractions along the way, stay with Ganesh, he will keep you safe".

From this height, the world seems smaller and quieter. The slower pace allows me to sit back and observe the mundane as if through a microscope. We pass through a tiny village and at its edge, a candy apple red Maserati comes into view. A peddler rushes up and craning his neck yells up at me, "You can ride the Maserati or the elephant to Happytown, they are both the same price!"  Really?? I can't pass up driving an Italian sports car, so I dismount Ganesh and slide into the buttery toffee colored leather seat.
Two hours later with steam bellowing out of the hood, I crawl to a stop. Turns out Maseratis are no match for pothole ridden dirt roads or 105 degree heat. I spot something meandering my way, it's Ganesh. He halts, turns his majestic head towards me and says "The Maserati is beautiful, but not practical for this harsh climate". A talking elephant? Ganesh shares his story with me as we continue our journey into the night. He is no ordinary elephant he explains, he is the Lord of all living things. The remover of obstacles, obstacles that prevent us from achieving joy. "Humans gravitate towards material attachments, which create suffering. You choose an impractical vehicle to travel to Happytown and it leaves you stranded. Why?" he asks. I ponder my answer and respond "Because I've never driven a Maserati before and it is a status symbol of wealth in my country. I wanted to boast about it to my friends back home". Ganesh lifts his trunk and pats me on the head as he chuckles and says "Ahh, ego. Another obstacle I must clear for you".
The rising sun is breathtaking here, a rainbow sherbet sky spread over the horizon. Just then, a dark object with a humongous wing span buzzes by me and as I focus in, realize it's a flying carpet! It circles back around and its driver devilishly smiles at me saying, "You can ride my magic carpet or the elephant to Happytown, they are both the same price." Well, a magic carpet can't break down and it is much speedier than an elephant, so I hop on the Persian rug and wave goodbye to Ganesh. Wait till my friends hear about this, I think to myself.
Two hours later with a few bumps and scratches courtesy of the towering fig tree we crashed into, I am sitting down, pressed up against its trunk tending to my wounds. Turns out flying carpets are fast but not good at dodging a flock of birds. Plus, it's really windy up there, Aladdin never mentioned the wind part. Regretting my latest transportation mode and the suffering it's causing, I glance into the vast desert and who should appear but Ganesh. He languidly arrives to my rescue and I clamber on, wincing all the way. We travel in silence for a while, which I welcome. I don't need a lecture from the Lord elephant right now. After our lunch break under a shady Bodhi tree, I quietly admit how my choices led to suffering and unhappiness and ask Ganesh for help. "Be aware of your actions and inactions. Will they lead to joy or suffering? Life should flow like water, unobstructed and without resistance. That is the path to joy. Get out of your own way", the wise elephant answers.
The remainder of our trip was uneventful and I rode into Happytown with a clearer outlook on the true meaning of finding joy within rather than without. You may not need an elephant to lead you to joy, the path is the same for us all. Happiness does not come from material wealth or our emotional attachments to it, happiness comes when we travel with the Divine or God at our side.
May your life be free from suffering, May you be at peace, May you be happy.