In Memoriam: Maya McLendon-Kunz, 1997-2010

Maya was our beloved queen cat.  She belonged to my partner from kittenhood, then adopted me at age 3 or 4 in 2000.  She was always completely herself: demanding, beautiful, proud, wise, confident and more than a little bit snarky.  Over the years we became best friends, and she took a great part in teaching me, and others, how to communicate with animals.  For several years, she also had her own highly opinionated advice column on my site.

When she was six or seven, Maya told me she intended to die quickly while she was still young and pretty.  While I took that at the time to be mere vanity, I later realized that she just knew who she was and what her journey was meant to be.  She knew from the start that her enormous spirit would not happily stay long in her little kitty body, even if she enjoyed it most of the time she was there.

It was only a couple weeks ago she seemed more sleepy, and then a few days ago that she stopped eating and showed signs of rapid weight loss.  I knew that she was preparing to go, but we couldn’t fully accept it before getting her tested.  She was soon diagnosed with a rare, aggressive form of cancer that affected her blood cell production.  She would not eat.  We knew this was confirmation.

Over the last couple days of her life, the treatment we gave her allowed her to enjoy snuggling and purring with us for just a bit more.  We all shared about our wonderful times together, and she and I had several conversations over this time.  In hopes that it may comfort both people who knew her and people whose pets are passing or recently passed, here are some of the last things we discussed while she was in her body.

Maya, I just want to thank you for being in our lives.

You’re very welcome.  And thank you for everything!  You know I planned it that way.  You and Other Mom belong together, and I saw that before it happened.  I also knew that you would be the one for me who would be my friend, my mommy and my kitten, too.  You would listen to me, and spread my wisdom like I wanted it to be, and I would listen to you and help you learn how to harness your talents, communicate with others and be more sure of yourself.  We would also love each other so much, and we always will.  I love you, no matter what shape I’m in.  Never forget that.  And don’t forget that you had to be pretty wonderful for me to plan to get you as my caretaker and friend!

I know you probably have many things to do on the other side, and that you once told me you didn’t want to live to be too old, but wanted to die quickly and stay beautiful.  Still, it’s hard for us to let your body go.  Would you like to comment on that for us and for others who may go through the passing of their loved ones?

Yes.  I remember what I said, and I meant it – but you know I did live a little longer than I planned for you.  You remember how many years I said I’d live that time?

Nine.

Yep.  And then you bargained with me.  It was so funny!  “Just a few more years? How about sixteen,” you said.  “Maybe you’ll like it.”

“No, sixteen’s too much,” I said.

“Eighteen?” you asked.  You were very funny then!  But I knew you were shocked and saddened by the conversation.  I told you I might make it a little longer for you, maybe around twelve, and then we tabled it.  And here it is thirteen years and it’s time for me to go.  I stayed a lot longer than I meant to because I love you and Other Mom so much.  But now it’s time to go.

You ask me why it’s hard for you, even though you are enlightened enough to know it’s part of my journey, and yours, and that death is not a bad thing.  There are a couple reasons.

First off, you, like many humans, still have that niggling bit of doubt.  “What if this life is all there is?  What if it’s all blank and nothing afterwards and I never see my loved ones after that?”  That’s understandable, and very human in the way you all think.  It’s hard for you to trust things that you can’t see, touch or make scientific charts and calculations about.  But trust me, as animals, we don’t have that problem.  Do I get a little scared of the crossing?  Yes, only because the transition can be a little different, and there can be some pain and confusion involved.  But I am not scared about the afterwards, and you shouldn’t be, either.  Someday, what you know inside you is going to grow to completely push out that niggling fear.  Until then, you just have to “fake it until you make it” with trust.

Secondly, because we have been so close and my warm body has so comforted you.  I didn’t come out so beautiful by accident!  You needed somebody like me to comfort you, because you are not frequently close physically to other beings.  We all need to be close to someone, but sometimes our trust issues – or just not liking that someone! – get in the way of that.  You and I, we trust and love each other completely.  We could be ourselves together without ever any judgment: unconditional love.  And part of that love was shown by our physical closeness together.  Plus, I feel good to the touch, which I’m rather proud about.

So, you’re going to miss that.  And I’m going to miss it, too.  Maybe not as much, because being on the other side is very freeing and exhilarating, and your spirit encompasses so much.  I can know I’m sending you love and energy hugs all around your body, even if you can’t feel them the same way.  (I know sometimes you can, but you have to be in the right head-and-heart-space for it.)  But you know, that’s one of the joys of physical life.  We go into our bodies to experience things we can’t without one, and to learn things.  We go through highs and lows with it, kind, physical touching that comforts us, and various pains.  Our spirits learn from both of these things, what we feel is “good” and what we feel is “bad.”  They just all are, really.  And when you get on the other side, or even when you are still in the physical plane but letting your mind and heart flow in the spirit, you will know this.  And you will think “boy, I am so thankful for the ‘good’ and the ‘bad,’ the hard and the easy, because they both taught me, and without one I could not understand the other.  And now that I am on the other side, I can use that knowledge as I spread my love and purpose in spirit form.’”

Thank you.  Do you have anything you’d like to say to all the people who asked you questions in your column, read about you in Dawn Brunke’s book or communicated with you over the years?

Sure, and I’ll say it to the animals I spoke with, too.  Thank you for talking with and thinking of me.  Everything I said was my own opinion – but!  I think I always had a lot of wisdom.  That’s why I wanted to share it.  I wasn’t just whistling Dixie, you know!  I wanted to help.  To be admired and amused, too, yeah, sure, but mostly to help.  I like to think that some of the things I said and did were a big help to some animals and people.  In fact, I know they were.  I said a lot of what I wanted to say, and then I was fine just semi-retiring for a while and spending my time snuggling with you and Other Mom.

And if I wasn’t of help to you – so be it!  (laughs)  Hey, I’m no saint, I never was.  You take what you want and you leave the rest.  But if I turn out to be right, don’t say I never warned you.

Anyway, I may be able to communicate some more wisdom to you from the other side, when you’re ready for it.  It will be different, as you know, and I think you will be ready for it again, soon, once you have done some mourning.  (That’s mainly for you, Mom, but also the other ones who want more of my wisdom.)

I understand.  Do you have anything you want to say to your Other Mom?

I think she knows me through and through, and everything I think about her and want for her, even if she doesn’t know she does.  She has to remember I chose her and we can never stop being grateful for one another!  I send her purrs and kisses.  I even forgive her for telling embarrassing stories about me, but mostly because I am not easily embarrassed!  (laughs)

I also want to tell her it’s alright for her to cry.  Tell her I admire her and I always knew we were strong women together, who stood up for what we thought.  But I know her tender heart, and she knows mine.  Tell her “I love you, Mom, and we will be together again.  In the meantime, keep being a strong woman and believing in yourself!  And sometimes, it’s okay to just take some time out from everything to take care of yourself – even let others take care of you, too.  You can’t know everything that’s going on… unless you really contact your higher self.  And even then, that doesn’t mean you can control everything”… even though I am totally with her on wanting to do that, sometimes!  But tell her to take some time now and then to just relax, be herself, be cute, and think about how awesome she is.  That’s what she can learn from me – at least one thing.

I love her love her love her she is awesome!

I’ll let her know, when she’s ready.  Anything you want to say to the others in the household?  Maurice and Quan Yin (the cats), Eddie (the turtle)?

Eddie is her own interesting being and a queen in her own right.  I respect her and send her hails from one confident being to another.

Quan Yin – well, she has her own path.  I think it is well that we didn’t spend much time together, we were oil and water.  But I wish her no ill.  She just makes me sigh, you know?  And I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

Maurice… well, my higher self wishes him well and loves him a little bit like a brother… but the rest of me thinks “yeah, like that annoying, obnoxious little brother you can never get rid of,” and also “you’ll get yours, eventually, you so-and-so!”  (laughs)  I’m sure I was supposed to learn something by being forced to live with him all these years, and that it has been part of my journey, but… whatever, I don’t care.  Heh.  I think he’ll miss me more than he realizes when I’m gone.  Anyway, good luck to him.  I hope he does right by you and Other Mom.  I’ll be watching.

I don’t know how to wrap this up.  I love you so much, I never want to stop talking with you.

(Laughs)  I understand.  Just be close to me, and comfort me as I go through passing.  We both know we are all doing the best we can, and it’s okay if it’s hard or uncomfortable.  I love you.  We will comfort each other, for now.  Then I will comfort you from the other side.  And when you’re ready, we will see each other again.

In the meantime, I have one more thing to tell you.  When I am gone, you will be sad, but you will be stronger than you think.  You will be able to communicate with me on the other side, and you will learn you can carry on without my physical form there to comfort you.  Maybe, you will even be able to be open to comfort from others more, too.  Just for now, let yourself feel the sadness, and move through it, knowing I am sending you smiles, as well.

As for all the other people, if you really want my wisdom, you may still be able to get it!  I have lots to do when I pass, but I always like to help, in my own way.  I send good energy all around, and I’m excited to move on to the next phase that’s coming!

Goodbye, Maya, my Shmoo, even though it’s never really goodbye.  You have been so loved, and given so much.  I will try to remember and use the things I learned from you.  I know you will teach me from the other side, too, and I am grateful for it all.  For now, I just miss you.  Thank you for everything.

(Love and purring…)

Maya crossed to the other side peacefully with our and a wonderful visiting veterinary team’s help.  She left behind a legacy of helping many people with questions they had about animals and animal communication.  The day after her passing, she was already cheering me up by sending me love, advice, and telling me how free she now is.  She also informed me that she is still available to give her sage advice, albeit from a slightly different perspective. If you'd like to ask Maya a question, please send it to maya@animaltaker.com.