The next day, I was just going through the motions, as so many of us do when we’re grieving.  Yes, I may be a medium, but I still had to go through the process of grief.  This was my little brother, my best friend, my fur buddy . . . I didn’t think another fur kid could come into my life.  No one could replace my Sammy boy.

Then my dad told me I “had” to go to the local SPCA, as when he was there that day, he saw a cat who he knew I would love.  “Her name is Kelly – she’s about a year old, and it says on her cage, I love to snuggle.”

How could I possibly think about bringing another cat into my home?  Yet, I found myself driving to the SPCA after work, exhausted from a sleepless night and a day filled with tears.

The very last cage I saw, tucked away in the corner, was Kelly.  I started to talk to the sleepy little girl curled up in the corner of the cage.  “Hi Kelly . . . I just lost my best friend, not even 24 hours ago.  I don’t really think or even know if I’m ready for someone else to come into my home.  So tell me, sweetheart . . . am I supposed to bring you home with me?”

She got up and walked to the door of the cage . . . blinked . . . and reached out her paw at me in a wave – just like Sam. 

The rest, as they say, is history.

She came home the day after St. Patrick’s Day.  And, since we didn’t know when exactly her birthday was, and since her name was Kelly, that very day ~ St. Patrick’s Day ~ was as good as any to celebrate her birthday.

Tomorrow, she turns a big 5.  We have reading scheduled with our favorite animal communicator, Aileen, after I get home from work.  And, perhaps, she may even get a little tuna or shrimp for dinner . . . she deserves it.

Happy Birthday, Kelly girl . . . I love you!!!

This is my first blog on WordPress, and it’s incredibly appropriate that it begin tonight.  You see, eight years ago, I sat in my college dorm room in Potsdam, New York, at this late hour, crying and believing with all my heart that the “best” part of my life was behind me.  Circumstances required me to take a medical leave from school, much to my discontent.

As I returned home to Longmeadow, Massachusetts, I convinced myself that I was “past my prime.”  Just days before my 22nd birthday, I was in no mood for celebrating.  I was convinced that I would never make it to 25 years old.  Even if I could physically get there – which, given my health condition at the time, was nearly impossible – there was no way I was going to make it there in the emotional, mental, and spiritual condition I was in.

But here I am – eight years later, just days before my 30th birthday.  This, to me, is nothing short of a miracle.

Last November, I was at a workshop where we were creating visionboards for 2010.  I saw an ad in a magazine that struck me, and placed it in the center of my visionboard.  It was an ad for the American Cancer Society, and it said, “When Happy Birthday is a victory song . . .”

This struck me . . . because for much of my teenage years and into my 20′s, “Happy Birthday” was anything BUT a victory song. 

But tonight, eight years after that life-changing decision . . . there is no better night to celebrate.  Today in my chiropractor’s office, while in the meditative state, I saw all my loved ones in Spirit – my Bubie, aunts, uncles, other grandparents, friends, reading and energy clients, and even my four-legged friends – throwing me a “surprise” 30th birthday party, complete with candles, hugs, and lots of singing.

Yes, eight years later, I can genuinely say that “Happy Birthday” IS a victory song.

Will it get better than tonight?  After all I’ve learned in the past eight years, I’d have to say my answer is a resounding . . .

YES.