Talking to Mallory

I talked to an animal communicator. I know - it’s a bit out there.

Process is simple. Go to the website, pick a date, time, and duration, and pay the fee. I fill out a questionnaire and send some pictures. And voilà, I get to talk to Mallory.

Animal communicator calls me, and she says she feels very sorry for our loss. I cry.

I have three questions.

First, is Mallory trying to tell us something? I hear her kicking the doorstop. I see a bright dot on my bedroom ceiling where there should be none. Jeff hears her drinking water. It’s comforting to know that she’s still with us, but we don’t know what she wants.

Second, did we make the right decision to let her go? Was it the right time? Could we have done something different to make her feel better? I feel enormous guilt. I know my feelings don’t really matter. Maybe these questions don’t either. But I still want to know.

Lastly, what was the happiest moment in her life? I wonder if she was actually happy living with us. She was quite stoic most of her life and I have no idea how she felt. I also want her to know that we loved her very much. And we always will.

I am not sharing actual conversations. But I can share that I went from “this doesn’t make any sense” to “this freaks the F out of me”.

It’s been about a month since Mallory passed. So far I have written 4-5 newsletters about her. I wonder if people are tired of hearing about Mallory. When is the right time to stop writing about her? Does anybody think “oh my god, just get over it”? Because sometimes I do.

Then I tell myself not to be dwindled by outside voices. Grief needs to be dealt in my own way. I can’t fake my sadness. I can't fake to be healed either. I need to write about her, however long and often it might be. I need to write from my heart. That is the only way.

So I keep the light on in my living room. I change her water. I buy a beautiful vase for her altar. I light the candle and blow it out. I say good night to Mallory.