Being With……. by Diane Wells, Parish Administrator

I live in a wonderful, eclectic 50’s neighborhood with wonderful, eclectic neighbors. We have some lawyers, some business owners, some musicians, a parish administrator, some college professors, and some scientists. Some folks are retired, some are stay at home parents, some (like me) have been around the block a few million times during the 30 years we’ve lived there, some are new to the block. We know a bit about each other’s lives, just enough to know what’s important to whom, not enough to be nosy. A few years ago, one of these exceptional neighbors started organizing the Dover Drive Block Party, an annual event that will most likely be taking place in July from now on since the one scheduled for last October took place around a fire in a 50 gallon drum in an attempt to stave off the 20 degree temperatures. Believe it or not, even in those conditions, 70 hearty souls drank hot cider and ate bratwursts from the grill that had been transplanted to the middle of the street.

One of the things that many of us on Dover Drive share in common is a deep abiding love of dogs. We know our neighbor dogs' names, and say “hi” to them as we pass by their yards. We ask after their health, take them home when they stray, and, in my case, do everything I can to make my pesky pooch play nicely with others. So, when I heard that my neighbor dog, Eddie, was diagnosed with cancer and given “weeks, not months” to live, I immediately felt that tug of time that clenches the heart of all of us dog lovers. I did not expect that “weeks” was going to mean two.

So, last Sunday in the frenzy of getting the house ready for guests, my neighbor Nina came over to ask if I could help her with “Eddie”. Nina had a meeting to attend and needed to be gone from her house for a couple of hours. But “Eddie” was acting strangely. She (“Eddie”) was panting hard, and was unable to sit, stand or lay down comfortably. Though hoping that I might be able to watch “Eddie” while she was out, we determined that as “Eddie” felt more and more uncomfortable, as her breathing became more and more labored, that, in fact, Nina was the only one who could soothe her growing anxiety. So, Nina cancelled her meeting and stayed home with Eddie. I went back to my cleaning frenzy.

Eight hours passed. The party at my house came and went, and with the last guests out the door, I took to cleaning up. I didn’t get very far. As soon as I encountered the apple pie that was left by a partier, I was immediately taken over by the hand of the Holy Spirit, and instructed by said HS to take some pie to my neighbors Mark and Nina and find out how “Eddie” was doing. I crossed Dover Drive to find their house dark, but the front door open. I knocked lightly on the door, thinking that I would just step in and leave the pie in their kitchen. As I entered their house, I heard Mark (Nina’s husband) calling, “Who is it?” from downstairs. Mark met me at the top of the stairs, and immediately encouraged me to come down with him. In their wonderful music room in the basement, I found three other folks, Nina and two of her friends, on the floor surrounding “Eddie”. With only the light from the stairway softening the scene, I was told that “Eddie” had just died a few minutes before all on her own. The house call veterinarian had come, but complications had made injections particularly difficult, and by the time an alternative method was decided on, “Eddie” made her transition all by herself.

There is something absolutely extraordinary, absolutely intimate, and absolutely incredible about being present when a loved one dies. It is a space in which hearts are open to each other, in which there is no guile, no disguise. It is a place in which only the truth can be told, with or without words. The five of us spent the next hour together in that amazing quiet place, sharing stories about “Eddie”, stories about other loved ones who we did not get to know long enough. We shared silence together, all cognizant that this loved soul was on a new journey, on the path to her source, all aware that it is the one journey we must all take alone. Ultimately, we each felt that we had been brought to that moment to give ourselves in the gift of “being with”, which may well be the greatest gift of all.