Some of you know that my youngest daughter passed away on December 13, 2008, of an "accidental" drug overdose, according to the coroner. What you don't know, because I never told anyone, is that we had reasons to suspect foul play, but couldn't prove anything.
I'd only been involved with this forum since April of that year, still very much figuring things out, but I was okay with the accidental thing, and I could even have dealt with suicide -- she'd been in a lot of physical pain for many years, and I knew she was tired of it.
But the idea that someone may have killed her in cold blood in order to cash in on a life-insurance policy . . . well, that pissed me off like you just wouldn't believe. And since there was no physical evidence -- only the KNOWING deep in our churning guts due to certain "coincidences" -- there was nothing I could do about it. I was filled with an impotent fury that ate my lunch -- and my breakfast and my dinner and damn near everything else -- for almost an entire year while I plunged myself into Abe and Seth and Bashar and many others and screamed at the universe
"Damn you! Make this make SENSE to me!"
I was able to channel a lot of this tempestuous energy into creative endeavors, but not all of it -- some still boiled over, and a few people standing too close got burned. I regret it, but there's nothing I can do about that either -- it is what it is, and we are where we are.
Now I realize I should have sought out someone to talk to about it, but I didn't know who. I couldn't tell my ex because the poor woman was already devastated, and I knew she'd worry about me up here all alone and in turmoil . . . so I couldn't tell the family or she'd hear about it from them. And I didn't think I could talk to anyone here, because I was in no mood to be told how wonderful I should feel that she was gone back to Source. I knew it intellectually, but couldn't feel it then. No one who's never laid a child to rest can understand, especially one you believe was murdered -- because that feels like someone has taken from you something inexpressably precious and utterly irreplaceable. And I pray that none of you ever arrive at this understanding.
I'm not telling you all this because I want your sympathy -- quite the contrary, I want you to rejoice with me that today I'm so far removed from that private little hell that, while I remember being there, I DON'T remember what being there felt like. While I love Seth and Bashar for their detailed and scientific explanations, which taught me the "structure" and the mechanics, it was Esther's wonderfully soothing Abraham expressions that helped me get my capsized emotional ship righted once more. Abe is without question the slickest soul-soothing salve to ever come into my life, and I've grown to love them dearly. They are my "heroes" having rescued me . . . or perhaps I should say, having taught me how to rescue myself . . . from an abyss of sadness and pain.
Finally, I get it now, quite clearly, that it doesn't matter whether Tabby's demise was an accident, or suicide, or murder -- that she freely made this choice on some level at some point in her existence, and then magnetized the circumstances that would culminate in a relatively painless departure, at the time and place of her own choosing. And I'm completely cool with that. I'm now able to look at her pictures with joy instead of rage and sorrow, and I'm at peace knowing that all is well.
Because now I know that wherever she is, and whatever she's doing, it's all about HAPPY! And happy is all I ever wanted for her in the first place.
THANK YOU, Abraham! I love you! I bless you! And oh -- tell Tabby to keep right on bouncing on her mother's bed, until SHE gets it too! :-) Amen.