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Bretta grew up with many animal friends (and they were indeed friends.) Looking over photos from her childhood, most picture a widely smiling little girl with her arm flung around the neck of a horse, or with a bunny, dog or cat in her lap or close by.

She loved Irish step dancing, country music, 80’s music from her teen years, Halloween (her little home was always decked out), St. Patrick’s Day, Dancing With the Stars, and anything Disney.

She was yet to take an airplane flight when she died, in fact she never travelled very far from her home area. She loved her work, her animals, her friends and family and kept close to them and kept them close to her.

Only 33 at death, the one word that describes Bretta is kind. Bretta was kind. Such an old-fashioned word that says so much and encompasses so many other qualities- loyalty, generosity, non-judgmentalness, compassion and belief in “do unto others”. This is her legacy. She is forever Bretta in the hearts of those who love her, and will forever be missed.

When I close my eyes and allow visions of my childhood animal companions to arise, I see my little dog Bitsy playing in the yard, my cat Silky dressed up in doll clothes with my little sister pushing her around in a buggy, and, from my teen years, my cat Elvis lazing in a sun patch. Fast forward to early adulthood, and my three dachshunds appear in my vision: Schultzy, who liked to sleep with his nose buried under my arm; Sarah, who hardly had a chance to grow beyond puppy-hood; and Leroy, a rescue, who became my daughters’ touchstone during difficult times (a major move, a divorce). Later, my three felines: the beautiful and proud Kitty, dear placid Mary and the amazing orange wonder Tommy. All gone now. My memories bring smiles.

Eyes open, I see my sleeping cats: the oh-so  narcissistic Rocky and sweet blue-eyed Sky. I smile. And yet I know someday they too will move out of my life.

We who choose to live with other sentient beings are blessed. We get to experience a deep connection with another species (to the extent we are open to it) and in doing so, expand our capacity to give and receive love.

With the death of a cherished pet, some of us find ourselves flooded with a grief that suprises and overwhelms us with its intensity. Following are a few insights and suggestions to assist you during this time.

Allow: Honor yourself and your beloved friend by allowing the expression of feelings. Give yourself permission to fully grieve, even if it feels scary. It may mean some restless nights, exhaustion, and/or taking some time off your regular routine to just be. As much as possible, give yourself this time.

Ask: Reach out to trusted family and friends and let yourself be supported. If for any reason this is not possible, there are resources available in the forms of books, counselors, and pet bereavement sites on the internet. This applies also if your pet is still living but going through a terminal illness. It is crucial to be supported at this confusing and painful time that can bring up doubts about what is the right thing to do, and asks so much of you as a caregiver holding the high watch over your pet.

Action: Find a way to express your feelings. Write a letter to your animal companion, make a painting or photo collage, or arrange a memorial service or ritual to honor your pet. It could be a simple gathering of others who knew and loved your pet, with stories and remembrances to celebrate her life.

Above all, remember it is okay to grieve. An animal companion’s death is significant. This is a being you have had daily contact with, whose essence is clearly imprinted on every aspect of your home and your heart. This is a being that has loved and known you. A family member.

The passing of a pet can often be a child’s first experience with death. This gives parents an opportunity to assist their child through the grieving process. Unresolved grief from childhood often can have a negative effect on personal growth and development later in life. There are some wonderful books written for children on the death of a pet, and many resources on the internet to assist you in understanding how children perceive death at different ages.

As I write this, Rocky sits patiently watching the robins…

This was written before Rocky died on  May 30th 2008. Sky and I have since welcomed a very fun boy named Lenny into our home and hearts. Below is a photo of Rocky in his favorite place.

The tagline on my Celebrant logo says ” Every Life is Worth Remembering”. I believe that absolutely and fervently. Creating a meaningful service is heart-work. It need not be fancy or expensive and can be held pretty much anywhere. The intention and content are what count.

My ex-husband died in May of 2000. He was only 63, and we had been divorced for almost two decades. There was no service planned for him, so I flew to Spokane where our two daughters lived, and the three of us plus his son from a previous marriage  had a little informal memorial service for him in my daughter’s living room. We told stories and laughed and cried. I gave each of them a matchbox car from his collection. Reconciliation and healing began in that living room.

My sister and I have lost our parents recently. Our mother died of Alzheimer’s in January of 2003, and our father followed in March of 2004. Not at all religious, and quite unsentimental, my parents didn’t want any fuss made when they died. And they specified cremation. We found a wonderful Celebrant to help us plan the services and officiate them. My mother’s service was sweet and fitting to her. We played some of the old hymns she remembered her mother singing when she was a little girl, and my sister read a lovely piece my mother had written when on a plane flight to Britain many years prior. The Celebrant presented a eulogy created from the many stories we told him at our family meeting. At the conclusion, in unison, all of us gathered there cheered “Bye Vi”! It was perfect! My dad’s service was held in the lounge of his golf club, a place he visited right up to the weeks before he died. He would meet a bunch of his old friends for drinks, and so as people arrived for the service, they were offered a glass of wine. There was much laughter and some great stories as well as some contemplative moments and tears. We celebrated his life exactly where and how he would have liked! Our acceptance of our parents’ deaths, and our healing process would have been delayed if we had not had these services.

Every life is indeed worth remembering…and every service can be a treasured tribute to that life.  This is why I am called to do this work as a Funeral Celebrant.

An email from Lisa, for whom I conducted a Memorial Service for her dog, Molly. It was such a sweet time, concluding with a tree planting over Molly’s ashes.

“It was so wonderful. Perfect, and sincere, and loving, and humourous. Thank you for your attention to detail, and really understanding the essence of Molly and my relationship with her (and Missy’s too!) Thank you again for giving me and Missy, and all of Molly’s fairy dogmothers a wonderful way to say a happy goodbye to her.”

Thank you, Lisa!

It’s still a work in progress for me to answer that question, easily and succinctly. In many ways, this profession chose me. So here is a little synopsis of the seemingly unrelated events and circumstances that occurred over a period of a decade, that led me to the wonderful training offered by Doug Manning and Glenda Stansbury in June of 2007.

As a licensed Spiritual Practitioner or counselor, trained at Agape International Spiritual Center in Los Angeles, I became co-facilitator of a bereavement group, primarily working with those who had lost a precious animal companion. This allowed me to open my heart to companioning those in grief, which I still do today by co-facilitating a monthly Bereavement Circle here in Seattle.

I attended many Memorial Services at Agape, and became used to the concept of celebrating a person’s life with stories, well-chosen music, sometimes video tributes, and highly individualized ceremonies. This is simply the way it’s done at Agape. Some services were for celebrities that attended Agape, but whether the deceased was a celebrity or simply a beloved and valued congregant, the love shown the family, and the service itself, was always uplifting and healing. I always left those services feeling sad, yes, for the loss, but also full…of hope, of wonder, of such appreciation for the life celebrated, and for the life we are all given.

I’ll continue this in another post.