From Linda Shepherd

Circling Her Head
.
Through the mysterious connections that are the Internet, I came to know a woman who was dying from cancer and determined that this should be a public journey. One that would be both a cautionary tale and a journal of hope for those who were on their own paths. This unassuming wife and mother, surrounded by death and dying, wrote how she had to live her life with "birds circling her head". There would be an end she knew, and soon. But while she was here, she reached out to the world and wrote unforgettable pieces of prose that became pure poetry of the soul.
.
Her name was Renee.
.
She shared happy moments, hilarious stories, insightful comments, tender memories and unselfish, ever abiding love for her family. People from all over the world responded to her simple honestly as she faced down the cancer every day with incredible courage, sometimes with humor, sometimes with rage and tears. We became a family.
.
The excruciating pain was unremitting. It's reality brought toxic drug cocktails and sleepless nights. She talked about the retching and compared stomach upsets to "bats beating to get out". Her writing was as real as it gets. And then, after a really hard night, she would post beautiful images and speak about the beauty that still surrounded her. We started a private correspondence. "What can I say to get your mind off this ugly cancer for a while", I asked. "Fuck cancer", she said. "Tell me a story."
.
And so it began.
.
Renee, do you remember that movie with Robin Williams, "What Dreams May Come"?
.
Wasn't that about suicide?

.
Sure, but it was more about life, I think. He became part of the color of the living world.

.
I remember he was trying to get to the tree his wife was painting before she died.

.
She painted her own future and her husband walked into it. That's what you do. You paint possibilities with images and your words. And we walk into them.
.
Renee's Room was a story about the journals of the mind. A place of beauty and wonder that can be accessed in the imagination, where the mind dwells in loveliness and scent. Renee could travel to these places in the way that all old souls do.

.
Renee could fly.

Renee, it sounds like a really bad couple of days. I know you have the drug cocktails. Can you get marijuana in Canada?

.
Oh yes, we get marijuana here.

.
No shit? I'll be right up!

Renee, have you ever heard of Joseph Campbell?
.

No, I don't think so.

.
You may have and not have known who the author was. Sometimes you say things that remind me of him. He was a teacher too, of all the interconnections in the human story.

.
I love when you talk about what you think is out there.

I want to believe, and I do, but I want to believe more.

.
How are your mom and Jacquie doing this week?

.

Everyone is okay, so far.

.
This is a huge thing that is happening in your family. Three women, one the patriarch, all dying together. Do you ever talk about that? About what that means to who is left behind and what that legacy is?

.
We do talk about it. Sometimes we laugh or cry. But it's all real. We have no time for relationships that are not real. We mostly love each other.

.
I believe that energy is neither created, nor destroyed. YOU will continue. As Joseph said, you are identified with the energy that is the soul, not the vehicle which is the body.

.
Like finds like. We have known each other many times before this.
.
The Bushman's Tale was a story about the effortless time travel of old souls who exist in a place where time ceases to have meaning. Only fear prevents us from seeing all there is. They show us the way.

.
Renee was a Pathfinder.
.
Renee, what's wrong?! Your new blog picture has such a brooding unrest, like a vague threat lurking in the background. And it's so red.
.

My mom is dying. All I can do is give her my undivided love and attention. I want to remember everything. I want to be with her all the time, but I can't.

.
What else is there that matters besides your love and devotion? Do you have a little memento from her to focus on? Like a lock of her hair? A favorite photo?

I hold her had when I can and tell her I love her.
.
This was so like Renee. She was in such pain. It was truly intolerable. Yet, she was the last person she worried about. All that mattered was her mother and her beloved family. Her writing became less frequent and she began to speak mostly in images. Some were unbelievably powerful pictures of her journey, of angels and fairies. Light and color and love appeared more and more often.
.
Circling Her Head was a story that spoke to the flight of the soul into dimensions we can only imagine. Her birds became the eagle that soared with her to where stars are born. She was entering a state of transition. She became Changing Woman.

.
"Remember to always walk in the pollen path of peace and blessing. Be still within yourself and know that the trail is beautiful."

.
Lose your fear. This is the knowledge we have all forgotten, that we are all one being.
.
We are Stardust. We are Golden.
We are billion years old carbon.
And we need to get ourselves back to the garden.
(Joni Mitchell)
.
Golden Stardust. I like that.
I am happy that our hearts have met.
I am happy that we both care.
I wish you lived next door.
I love you.
.
Renee died shortly after this last letter.
.
Whenever I need an example of courage and grace under fire, I will say the name Renee.
.

Whenever I need an example of selflessness and pure love, I will say the name Renee.

.
When I need to say goodbye. I will say "no".
.
I'll just say fuck cancer! And then I'll say...

.

See you later alligator!

A laughing little wisp of wind will lift m.y hair and I'll hear...

.
After while, crocodile!
.
I love you too and I'll hold you in my heart until we meet again.
.
xoxo right back at you
Love, Linda