Bruce 2006-2016
Our family was dealt a blow this weekend—our kitty Bruce passed away unexpectedly. No accident, no warning. His brother Grayson led me to the body, which we rushed to the emergency veterinarian, who couldn't find a heartbeat. She felt a mass in his abdomen, so it may have been undiagnosed cancer. He’d been his typical affectionate self all week, a “dog in a cat suit,” who played fetch, growled at the garbage men, walked around the neighborhood beside us and often joined me on my yoga mat.
When we returned home, perched in our tree was a black raven—known for centuries as messengers from beyond. None of us had ever seen a raven near our home before. Just two days earlier, a friend’s father in a Hospice facility passed away. At the same time—11:30 p.m.—his alarm clock sounded off back at his apartment beside his bed, seemingly alerting his wife who was there; she said that he’d never set that alarm before. Coincidence? Maybe. But I’ve heard so many stories like these over the years. To me, it’s exciting to consider that our deceased loved ones may somehow be able to communicate with us.
When we returned home, perched in our tree was a black raven—known for centuries as messengers from beyond. None of us had ever seen a raven near our home before. Just two days earlier, a friend’s father in a Hospice facility passed away. At the same time—11:30 p.m.—his alarm clock sounded off back at his apartment beside his bed, seemingly alerting his wife who was there; she said that he’d never set that alarm before. Coincidence? Maybe. But I’ve heard so many stories like these over the years. To me, it’s exciting to consider that our deceased loved ones may somehow be able to communicate with us.
Have you ever felt the presence of or sensed communication from a loved one on the other side? If so, what message might he or she have been sending?
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