Thank You for Praying for My Sister

Letting Go by Bandico Source

Friday, April 10, 2015

I got up this morning and did my favorite thing – cleaned my apartment.

Amanda phoned me at around one to say that it had moved from "any hour now" to "any minute now."

I changed from grungy clothes and drove to Antoinette's house, missing the exit. Dissociative state. Made an illegal U-turn.

Antoinette was still doing the labored breathing she began yesterday afternoon.

Many people were in Antoinette's room, some of whom I have met before, some of whom I was meeting for the first time, some of whom I feel comfortable around, some of whom I feel less comfortable around.

A priest came. We locked hands and prayed the Lord's Prayer. When that was finished, before we could break the circle, I loudly announced that I had forgiven Antoinette everything, and that everyone else present had also forgiven Antoinette for everything. No one gave me any lip.

Antoinette's daughters stepped out of the room to look at a dress.

I was settling in in the corner, about to open up my computer and kill time. I looked at my sister's face, though, and something told me, "This is it." I moved closer to her and began stroking the soles of her feet. I had done that earlier and she said that she liked it.

One of the people I feel less comfortable around and I were left in the room with Antoinette.

This person around whom I feel less comfortable challenged me, "Maybe she's holding on because she thinks that we have not given her permission to let go. Have *you* given her permission to get go? Have her children given her permission to let go? Should we get them in here and have them give Antoinette permission to let go? You're her sister! CAN YOU JUST TELL HER TO LET GO???"

Well, even if someone is someone you feel edgy around, that doesn't mean that the person doesn't have something wise and helpful to say.

I believe in telepathy, especially between my sister and me.

Several years back I was visiting some friends of hers down the shore. They had a dog. At that event, too, the house was full of people, many of whom I did not know, but I know I love dogs, so I grabbed the dog and took him for a walk. He was a boxer.

I thought, heck, a boxer, a strong dog, I can take him for a serious walk.

Not so. I don't think we had gone a mile when he collapsed on the road from exhaustion.

I sent Antoinette the message telepathically. Antoinette, the dog collapsed, I'm on such and such a street, come get him and me.

And she did.

So, I was watching her breath, and stroking the soles of her feet, and thinking, what could I say to Antoinette, telepathically, because she doesn't appear to be conscious and her hearing was not that good, that would make her let go?

I knew that "let go" was not the message she would heed. Antoinette was always in charge. So I said, "Antoinette, there are people you can boss around in heaven."

I continued to watch her breaths.

And.

They.

Stopped.

I motioned to the other person in the room, the one around whom I am less than comfortable, to bring in Antoinette's kids, and she gave me a hard time!

"She may start breathing again," she actually said.

Yeah, no, I don't think so.

But, eventually this difficult person got up, and gestured for the kids to come in, and they cried.

Scruffy, the rescue dog that Antoinette saved from death by parasites and pneumonia, had been glued to Antoinette. He licked her extensively after she passed.