Each lunar cycle, I read from my annual forecast under the new moon. The cards are always crystal clear, and Tuesday’s reading was as accurate as ever. The Death card is in the mix.
It was a busy day before I turned to my cards, though. Grocery shopping, a car wash and a quick trip to the veterinarian. My beloved Xotichl has developed a troubling cough. Doctor P thought an X-Ray was in order, to understand more about Xotichl’s condition and the news was most unwanted. Several metastatic growths, in and around her lungs and heart, mean my little sweet potato was not long for this world. The doctor gave her days, maybe weeks if I treat her with steroids. Sadness gripped me. I thought she would outlive our Frankie, who is older and a much bigger dog. I cried my way home.
That night under the darkest sky, I turned to the cards and read them as I wept. Yes, death is surely arriving. I would be guided toward a vision of clarity and this happened, too. A dear friend reminded me that I had time to prepare for what was coming. She suggested I focus on gathering the resources necessary to assure Xotichil’s peaceful transition. I also talked my neighbor, a former hospice nurse. He advised me to make the most of my time with my familiar. He spoke as if he were the Queen of Swords himself, “Put your grief on a shelf, now is the time to take care of business – you can be sad once she’s gone.” These conversations helped me. I started building an altar to honor the unconditional love we’ve shared for nearly 10 years. I resolved to fill her days with as much pleasure as possible: cuddles, beefy bones, cheese, and slow sniffy walks. There has been and will be plenty of writing.
The cards told me I have all the resources, discretion, and discernment to shelter Xotichl and myself through the inevitable transition. They illustrate how the effort will leave me bruised and wary. True enough, I already find myself crying in public and sleepless. The cards told me to find my way by relying on my intuition, and seeking clarity of thought without emotion. Finally, they show me the need to hold fast to the hope promised by the Star’s Aquarian energies.
That night I had a dream. A familiar counsel was gathering to make mysterious decisions. They convened in a home near the ocean to set a course of action, while I waited outside in tall beach grass. It was sunny, the air was fresh and chill. Along came a pack of well healed dogs, one was carrying a dove in its mouth. The bird was still alive and turned it’s head to look at me. I wanted to jump up and free the bird, but stopped myself. This was the way of the world, I said out loud. The dog is doing its dog thing, the bird had done it’s bird thing, and I am present to witness them making their way.
Xotichl started steroids on Wednesday and suddenly my little monkey seems her normal self on our daily walks. One of her most endearing habits is to bark loudly while walking, even on the emptiest streets. She is the town crier, delivering the good news, greeting trees and plants, the birds, and any human lucky enough to cross her path.
Xotichl on our walk this morning: bringing the news.
Death is always so near. This month, I send gratitude to the guides for revealing it to me through the Tarot. Cards I spread last December are playing out right on time, 10 months later: death is here, remain clear, lose my fear and gather my resources, trust my intuition, and maintain hope for a future together in spirit. Our neighborhood will be much quieter without dear Xotichl, but I have faith we will be together after she’s free of the leash.
To be sure, the Death card can serve as a metaphor when it occurs in a reading: a mishap, a clearing out the old to make a new way forward, or a bad investment gone to dust. Despite an urge to gloss into these metaphors, my readings of the card always deliver a reality check. “In my experience,” I will say, “this card often appears at the occurrence of an actual death.” I try to assure that death is a constant, around us all the time whether we consider it or not.