Death on the kitchen floor.

     There are some things that a girl might figure she may never have to experience in her own life. And then there is me. I say this sarcastically of course. I have had more than my fair share of intense perhaps some would say crazy experiences, spiritual and otherwise. This is certainly one of them.

    Something I know we don't talk about enough is death. So this is why I have chosen to talk about it and share my story.  One of many seemingly crazy cosmic events, odd synchronizations and spiritual experiences I have had.  

    Why me?   I am not completely sure. I am starting to believe it is so I can share these life changing experiences with other people. We can help heal one another through our own narratives and observations. That feels right to me.

   Why else would one go through so much in one life time? Unless all I have gone through and come to understand serves a greater purpose?
  

    We celebrate ones birth into this world of wonderment and insanity with showing off our baby bumps, baby showers, christenings and merriment. And yet we mourn death, wearing black clothing and having a funeral as if death is something foreign and terrifying. It can be for those of us still living, however, I do not believe it is the same for those whom have passed on. 

    Death is merely a transition from the physical back to energy. The pain we feel is that of being left behind and that seemingly empty void that is left by someone's passing. Missing them as if we will never see them again. The not knowing, can eat someone alive. 

    So much speculation, judgement and fear and yet folks there is no need for any of it. I will share my own experience of "skipping off" to the other side in another blog post. Blah, it just wasn't my time to go! 

    Firstly, let me say this, I have never thought of myself as someone to be counted on in a crisis situation before this happened.  My first instinct is normally to run and find someone else who can help. Someone who can perhaps keep their wits about them and assess a situation quickly and precisely. Again, that would not of necessarily been me.  Allow me to explain.

    For instance a few years ago my youngest daughter was about 15, she was supposed to be packing for a family vacation to the Oregon coast.  (if you have never been, it is beautiful!) Anyways, she is in her room and I suddenly heard her screaming for help. "MOM!" 

  Now I know all kids scream. I don't care if they are 5 or 15, they scream. Teens are really awesome at screaming and I pretty much became accustomed to " if you need me, and I don't answer, walk your happy ass either upstairs or downstairs to locate me,  don't stand there incessantly calling my name. "MOM!!!"

     As a parent of three children all of whom are now adults, I, like a hunter knew by the inflection of the their call simply by the way they yelled mom, what I  would most likely be met with. " I can't find my jeans!" or " I need lunch money" or " I need ssoommeeettthhiiinnggg."   (but, has no idea what that something actually is)

 This time though it was different. I heard the pain in her voice and the terror warbling on the end of the word mom as she called out to me. She was in trouble. My heart stopped.

     I couldn't get out of the laundry room fast enough, knocking over my basket of clothes, getting strangely tangled up in someones stupid pants. I  actually drug them with me all the way up the stairs! I missed the second to the last step on staircase number one while running as fast as I could upstairs, only to catch the last step with my foot and I tripped. 

   At the same time I am scrabbling to get upright, I am also trying to yell back at her to let her know I am indeed coming.  But, all I get out of my mouth is a jumbled bunch of guttural noises. Scary sounding noises that no one ever should hear! 

    I can laugh about now, but not then!  Fear had taken over and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  Up two flights of stairs, ( ok so each staircase has like 8 stairs, but still stairs are stairs and can seem like an eternity when you are running up them!)  I see her closed door. No time to waste using the doorknob right? So, I jumped like a wounded animal head and shoulders first into her door plowing it open, breathless and wild eyed. 

    Then I saw her.  She sitting on the floor with her hand wrapped around the top of her foot like she was protecting a burrito she didn't want her older brother to steal. "Mom, I didn't mean to."

    The memory of her trembling voice still haunts me today.  

   "Holy shit, what?!?!" "What is going on!"  I still didn't understand. She quickly removed her hand from the top of her foot and  I swear to you, a geyser of blood shot out and hit the ceiling! The ceiling people!! I am not even kidding here. A uprising that would scare the hell out of the even the most seasoned mother!  

    "Mom, omg, please help me!"  She quickly put her hand back on her foot and the flood stops. I stood petrified, blinking my eyes like a deer mesmerized by on coming headlights. 

     Let me tell you something, I panicked. I panicked like I had never seen blood before. I started screaming like a lunatic at the top of my lungs no less, for anyone else in the house anyone to call 9-11. "Somebodybettercall911!"  I yelled it repeatedly, like a broken record while desperately trying to figure out where the nearest cell phone was.

     In fact, perhaps indulge me and repeat that out loud yourself, really fast like.  "Somebodybettercall 911". It is kind of catchy, in a weird way?  Like it's all one word right?  (My husband and I say this jokingly now, with a hip hop tone, just to make one another laugh.) Anyways, my son had just walked into the house, not knowing anything besides call 911, he did just that.

   My husband whom was outside mowing the yard and didn't hear any of it just went to clean up in the bathroom. My calm, cool collected son  was on the phone with dispatch,  now upstairs in her bedroom, answering all the questions like a champ. He was not phased at all.

    Me, what was I doing?  I was reassuring myself over and over again out loud that everything was fine here, she would be just fine! That was until I looked up and saw what had felt like a splash of rain on my head was actually the remnants of old faithful, the dripping blood. On. The. Ceiling.

    What did I decide to do? Clean up her room. Yes. That's right. 

    Why you might ask? In my irrational train of thought I pictured EMT's lugging themselves upstairs into her bedroom while trying to get a stretcher in there, while simultaneous tripping over all of her shit.

    Because all EMT visits end with someone on a stretcher right?  All along while being bombarded with questions like  "are you sure this isn't a scene of a murder m'am?"  My mind was half crazed, so my thoughts were not making sense.  I don't like answering obtrusive questions, so I better grab the windex and start cleaning up!

      There's blood on the ceiling, on her dresser and clothes are everywhere. And why so much blood and why so much crap on her floor? Why do you have your suitcase out? Planning on running somewhere?  My CSI brain was on overdrive because nothing is ever as it truly seems right? 

     Lord help me!

    We don't need to discuss my delirious choice of tiding up her room right now. Just know I was temporarily insane.  I plead that I myself had panicked my way into a state of nonsensical shock. There were shoes in the way, a half packed suit case, and oh wait, what is that?

    Up until this point, I still had not put it all together as to why she was bleeding in the first place. I didn't even have enough sense at that point to ask. Ugh.

   Then I saw it.  I spy a open pocketknife laying by her bleeding foot! Yes, a pocketknife! Truth be told she was banned at age 11 from playing with pocketknives or even using a pocket knife. I mean who "plays" with a pocketknife anyways?

   No self respecting mother is going to be ok with her kid playing with knives right? And not because she was harming herself or anything or anyone else with the knife but I had found it laying open more than once and I had enough.  NO MORE pocketknives.  You know, someone could get hurt playing with a pocketknife and all. 

    Evidently, despite my wishes she liked to keep one handy anyways. A cool looking collectors addition type my dad had given her.  She had dropped the open knife ninja style into the top of her foot, cutting an artery on the way in! All while just trying to cut a tag off of a new shirt!

    My husband was now upstairs after hearing all the commotion from the bathroom. He gets a clean wash cloth and wraps it around her foot. He asks me why I am cleaning her room, doesn't wait for a response. He then picks her up like a princess and carries her to the main level.  Complete with sirens, police and a ambulance. Fantastic. Professionals are here! Thank God!

    "Ok, go ahead and remove the wash cloth, so we can take a look" the EMT says.  I briefly turn away.  The wash cloth is removed and there is evidently no longer a sprinkler of blood.  Relief. I am suddenly pushed back into reality. 

   "WOW" I say "that doesn't look too bad!" My eyes are wide and I am shaking my head yes. Like alright, not a big deal. 

     The EMT whipped out a band aid and told us she will be fine. One band aid folks.  "We can transport her to the hospital if you want, she will probably need two or three stitches and to be on the safe side, and a tetanus shot." TWO or THREE stitches?! Are you fricking serious here? 

     I am now completely in my own head and I start to justify my actions in calling 911. "But, there was blood shooting upwards like a bottle rocket! A fucking bottle rocket!" I say to myself. 

   I had never seen that before, I didn't know it was even possible, so of course I would call 911!  I find myself standing by the couch, casually looking out the front window holding onto a "do not judge me stance."

     I then shot my husband a glance; like whatttt? That's it? I almost stroked out over three potential stitches!?  "It's cool guys, thanks for showing up, we will take her."

    And she walks on her own to the car, with not so much as a slight limp. Unbelievable.

    So by now you know what I mean by crisis situations and myself are not a fantastic mix. 

     Fast forward to 2015.  It was the Fourth of July, the entire family is getting together for a bbq at my parents house. It was a beautiful, hot sunny day with a endless blue cloudless sky. Perfection.  Almost Saturday Evening Post picturesque.  Kids playing, water balloon fights, grilling up hamburgers, the typical good stuff that families are made of.

     We are all outside having a blast. I have a water balloon in one hand and a icy cold beer in the other. I am in a gorillas in the mist type of position, all hunkered down by some short bushes in my parents back yard. The last thing I remember was looking up at the blue sky and being so thankful for my family and thinking why the hell don't we bbq at other people's houses more often?! I mean why don't we do that! There is no clean up for us that way! 

    Then I heard it. A scream for help, a woman's voice yelling from the kitchen, only this time is was my Aunt's voice, and just as I knew the inflection of terror in my daughters voice, I knew it in hers too. 

     My Aunt has a tendency to be high pitched and sometimes her voice reminds me of a very agitated small Chihuahua, (said with love Auntie, said with love) but, I knew this was not a call to come help stir the potato salad. There was something terribly wrong. And I felt it like an electric shock, someone was dying. And I was being called into a very traumatic situation. My heart began to pound and I sprang into action.  

     It was loud outside, kids playing, my adult kids running around with the water hose waiting to drown me if I should step out of my camouflaged position. I had learned my lesson in previous water shenanigans that the person who stays hidden usually ends up with their make up intact and the least drenched at the end. That had been my goal. 

    I had been waiting there in secret for a good several minutes, I had watched my Uncle run past me hunched down like he was running army drills on how not to be detected by a potential attacker a few minutes before.  He was laughing and I almost got him with my water balloon but, I hesitated and thought I would wait to bombard my sister when she came around the corner. Because she is sneaky like that. At 5'1 and hovering around a 120 lbs, she can hide anywhere! While me, not so much. So, I wasn't giving up my location so easily. 

    Upon hearing the screams, I jumped up. I felt a water balloon burst upon my back, a shot fired from over the house into the back yard and I just happened to be in the way.  I opened the slider door, dripping wet and half put of my mind in panic. I approached the scene as if I was armed and ready to commit a home invasion. Arms out wide like I was trying to control an unseen crowd. I don't see her. I don't see my Aunt. Where the hell is she!?  I raced around the breakfast bar and there on the kitchen floor is my Uncle and my Aunt by his side. 

   She is in hysterics. I quickly grabbed my Aunt and lead her back towards the sliding glass door and to the outside.  Everyone is now in a panic, I hear other family members yelling and crying and I am back in the kitchen, a mere 10 steps from the door. 

    He isn't breathing. OMG, he isn't breathing! Why isn't he breathing!?

  I instinctively grab some towels that are on the counter while simultaneously screaming out  "somebody better call " and I heard my mom yell from another room that she was already on the phone, help was coming! 

   Suddenly my Brother in Law appears in the kitchen.  We don't say anything out loud, we just looked at one another. Time stood still, like something out of the twilight zone.

    I was unaware of anything else going on in that moment. I was only aware of us three and what we needed to do. At the exact same time we both got to ground level. It was as if we had communicated to one another what needed to be done but, we never actually spoke a word of it. 

    My Uncle evidently must of hit the counter top as he collapsed as I noticed blood on the side of his head. I wrapped a towel quickly around his wound and cradled his head in my hands. After all, I didn't want blood everywhere, (evidently I have issues with that!) 

   My brother in law is now in the CPR position. There was absolutely no hesitation on his part. We both made eye contact again, and I yelled out the word "GO!" which came out in slow motion.  In a voice I have never before heard myself use.  It was as if I was yelling out so that a million people could hear me.  He shook his head, the one nod of yes and with out breaking eye contact he started the compressions.

   I began talking to my Uncle, saying anything and everything I could to convince him to stay with us.  I intuitively knew he heard me. I felt it in every fiber of my being. Although it was embroiled with a feeling of trying to corral a feral cat whom had no interest in being put into a cage. 

   At this point I stop talking and begin yelling out loud.  That he better not die, not on my watch! And not on the kitchen floor!

   He was not down for more than 45 seconds from the time my Aunt yelled for help and the time cpr was started. However, it seemed like an eternity and at the same time as if also no time had passed at all. Everything was suspended, but my own racing heartbeat and my desire to save him.

     I was completely unaware of any movement around me. I could only see what was directly in front of me.  To say this was one of the most surreal moments of my life is an understatement. 

    I had never been so focused in my entire life! I had never been more determined either. This was life or death, this was the moment of the Alpha and the Omega. This was it! 

    My Brother in law is truly amazing. He didn't stop, he wouldn't stop. I encouraged him to keep going and we were more in sync then I even thought two people could be. It was a moment I will not easily forget. A moment I can still feel deep with in my own bones. Everything and nothing all at once.  

    We both kept talking to my Uncle telling him he was going to be fine, he was loved and that it was time to get back to our water balloon fight and he better get the hell up off of that floor. NOW!  I counted the compressions out loud, I checked his pulse, nothing. There was no pulse. Then I felt it for a fleeting second, one distinct beat and thought my God, we might just save him! I keep repeating "please, please come back to us!"

     There are moments in your life where you mark pages in time. Deep within self these markers exist. The before this and the after this. Some of those markers are filled with pain, some with love and some with sunshine. This marker carries all of these emotions. And that marker isn't going anywhere anytime soon. I can still feel it lurking deep with in the recesses of my being. 

     A reminder that life is precious and life can be taken from us without a warning, without a goodbye or a so long, or even see you on the flip side. Suddenly the curtain closes and we bow out.

     And here I am. A girl and her vibes; me, I felt my uncle's soul leave the kitchen that afternoon.  Like when the sun sneaks behind a big puffy white cloud on a otherwise sunny day and becomes unseen, and yet you can still feel the warmth of the sun. Unseen and yet all around me. 

   We were merely working on the body that had temporarily housed his spirit.  He had left us and his body, willingly behind.

   I felt him literally skip away into that sunshine.  I saw and felt his soul all at the same time. A saw a quick moment of light, coming from all directions. I saw him standing in that light. He gave one last double take at the scene below him then his soul, his being, was gone! For a split second I felt nothing but overwhelming joy. It was a crazy mixed up feeling, joy in the middle of the most excruciating pain and confusion.

   I intuitively knew he as a soul would A-OK, better than that really. He was fantastic! I knew he had chosen his exit point. Why? I don't know his reasons why. I can speculate, but, it doesn't truly matter, it wasn't and isn't for me to understand his timing. 

    I have come to understand that life indeed folds out as it is supposed to. It isn't coincidence (as we like to call it) That perhaps there is a bigger plan at play. Divine timing? Maybe?

     Some people may argue that a soul doesn't willingly leave it's body behind. I mean if there is choice involved then why would anyone actually leave everything and everyone they love behind and die?  I understand this. I do. However, life as we know it will end. And we all have an exit point. Perhaps more than one exit point.

    Maybe just maybe, we only take the exit point when it actually our time to let go of this lifetime. When one survives a car crash or accident or even heals from a debilitating disease, it is because they chose on some unconscious level not to take that exit point, because it wasn't truly their time to go.

    I am not saying this makes any logical sense because the process of death is different for every single soul. We don't have a say in the life plan of other people, it was created before a soul even comes into a lifetime. Like characters in a story line, we will all have different roles to fulfill within each of our intertwining life paths. What I think and what I choose to do or not do has both acknowledged and unacknowledged ripple affects.   

    My Uncle simply died of cardiac arrest. Different from a heart attack, it is an electrical failure in the heart, opposed to a blockage in the heart, which causes a heart attack.  Funny how we are not necessarily educated to understand that our bodies are made up of electrical currents. 

    The entire human body produces electrical currents that allow us to not only move our own bodies those currents allow us to think, walk, talk and feel. Without that electrical grid inside of us, we would be like an amoeba, unaware and unable to move with intention.  And with all the EMTs electrical equipment and know how, they to got zero, nothing, nada. It was his time. 

     As the EMTs announced they could do no more, I found myself in the bathroom holding back my Aunts hair as she vomited her guts out. Her husband of 49 years was gone. The 4th of July was their first date, some 50 years ago. Heartbreaking. 

     We will never have a 4th of July party at my parents house again. I know that. My mom was walking around in circles mumbling that she was going to sell the house. My sweet nephews were crying and confused, my kids were huddled up together crying, my husband was pacing around the backyard and my dad was doing his dad thing and had walked away from the situation into the front yard.  

     My sister was trying to console all the kids and I sit on my knees in the bathroom, telling my Aunt it was going to be alright. Even though I didn't necessarily even believe that it would be alright, I said it anyways. Sometimes we just have to do that, say it will be ok, even if we are scared as hell it wont be. Sometimes we just need to say it to ourselves, sometimes to other people.

    And you know what?  It was and it is alright. Our family has been afforded opportunities to bond through all of that and beyond. I have watched my Aunt blossom into a strong independent woman, living her life her way and I couldn't be more proud of her. Of course, in that moment though, my heart hurt, my body hurt and my very soul hurt. Not for my Uncle, but for her, my Aunt. 

     I  do believe we were all three supposed to be there and it happened exactly like it was meant to happen. I believe in some odd, crazy way, it provided me with an opportunity to show how bad ass I actually can be! How I can indeed do what is required. I do know how to respond. And I can assure you in a time of crisis, I know what to do and how to do it.

    Neither myself nor my brother in law were there to "save" him from his own death. We were there to be a part of this journey and to grow and stretch in ways none of us knew we needed at the time. This experience changed who I am.
   

    So I ask you, what are you holding on to in regards to loss?  I know there was not a single thing I could of done or anyone could of done to change the out come. It was his time to go. And when it is your time, it's really your time. Whether we die in a seemingly tragic accident, or go while one is sleeping, we will ALL die. I know so many people whom have hung onto the pain and agony of not being with someone while they pass. Or they stepped out of the room for something to eat after days or hours of being by someones side, only to come back and their loved one has passed.

     I also meet with people everyday in my life coaching practice whom beat themselves up because they too were in a life and death situation with someone and they were unable to "save" them. People whom cease to live their own lives to the fullest because their loved one is no longer with them to share in the adventures of life.  Guilt leads people to their own death, closing off their ability to live. 

    That is a tremendous disservice to not only self  but, it is the energetic equivalent to saying NO to life. We all go through loss and heart ache. We all have so much more in common as human beings than we can possibly understand.  Ease the suffering within yourself.  There wasn't anything you could do to stop it and if there was, it would of been so.  And the timing is not our timing. Perhaps the timing is something so much bigger than ourselves and we can't even wrap our brains around it. 

    Back to the kitchen. Its the 4th of July, so final pronouncement takes a while, finally he is removed from the floor, we drive home in silence. I can see all the fireworks exploding like glitter against the night sky. Quite a send off, I suppose. With fireworks and all.  Tears, I can't even try to stop them. Into our driveway, I exhale. Dear. God. I could of learned this about myself in perhaps an easier way, yes for next time? Yay. 

    So, I suppose it might be more of who you ask. Does Lori do well in stressful situations? Because I know my brother in law will tell you I handled that situation with some kind of super power I had never known before;  clarity in crisis. You ask my youngest daughter and she still might be on the fence about my actions in a crisis situation but, after all, I was cleaning up her room as she held her bleeding foot! So hey, I will give her that one. 

Thank you dear Uncle for helping teach me something spectacular about myself. This girl and her vibes will never be the same. <3  Lori