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    (Crossing the stone, Tros y Garreg, Catrin Finch/Carl Jenkins)

I’d received convincing contacts from her, so knew she still existed. I hadn’t felt just love, I had felt her love, and her character.

But the days went by with silence again, and no more contact. Every day I sent her my love, sent it out there to her like a radio signal. But I heard no reply. I wondered if she might have been close at one stage, maybe for a few weeks after her “death”, and then moved on “into the light”…. a finer, deeper level...or wherever they are supposed to go….. I really did not know.

Over two months had gone by since she left.

On Saturday the 11th August I woke too early. It was a grey morning with no promise in it. I got up, had coffee, read a little, then at 8am, although not sleepy, I decided to lie down for a rest. The grey morning broke, and sunlight filtered through my curtains. I closed my eyes and relaxed.

Suddenly a buzzing sound began somewhere within me, and a humming, twanging, like tiny elastic bands snapping. I knew what this was; it had happened before, though not for many years. I was about to have an out of body experience. At this point, I had a choice -to go out, or to come back. Even though the strange sounds were disconcerting, I decided to go with it. My legs gently floated upwards, leaving the physical body behind. Then my arms. I tried to see,  could see nothing, but could feel myself slowly rise up.

Hold on to your conscious awareness…don’t lose this now….you need consciousness, clarity….do a reality check…

What’s my name?…..Sylvia. What day is it?…Saturday. Eleventh of August. It’s morning, around eight, maybe eight thirty. I lay down for a rest…..

Try to find Misty….

I hesitated. She won’t be there, she’ll have gone -moved on. How will I feel when she’s not there?

Just try it. You have to.

I whisper “Misty…?”   Nothing. I knew she wouldn’t be there. I know I don’t have long. At any moment I could lose consciousness, then it would be over.

Call that an effort? Try again. Right. Here goes….

I call her, but in a different way, in a bright and happy way like I always used to when I had a treat, or we were going in the car.

“Mii-iist!” and I whistle for her.

There is a small noise, a bumping, stumbling sound. Then another little bump as she jumps up against my bed. My hands, out of body, reach out and touch her head, her neck, her ears!

I wish I could see!

But my hands are enough. I feel the texture of the inside of her ears, feel them bent back by my fingers, feel her warmth -alive and warm! Feel  the short fur on her head, the thicker fur of her neck…..

…My girl!….my good beautiful girl….you still live! Warm, alive, happy, still yourself!

This is it -I’m leaving, I can’t hold on any more. I’m sinking back gently.

“Shake….when I’m gone…shake so you’ll straighten your ears out….”

There never were, and there may never be again -three minutes as precious as those. Those three minutes I shall carry with me until I die. They wiped out all sorrow and sadness from many years. They wiped out all things which had ever come to me without love. They dried my tears.

They gave me my hard evidence.

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