Coral’s Healing Room at Coralsblog.com 505-269-9242 iwritetohealmyself@gmail.com I rise early. I go to bed early. If you need me, I will make myself available to you.

Robbi has some final words before she blows this pop stand!

Good morning everyone! Thank you for all of the love and prayers for Teddy and Duncan and Robin. Robin has written more than I have lately and I am both honored and blessed to be a part of her journey and her transition from this life. Right now, as she did so many times in her life, Robin is defying the odds. Energy levels are waning and so I help my sister to write this morning. I believe we are at our end and this shall possibly be my sisters last writing while she is still in her body. My sister goes by Robbi and yet since I met her, she has been Robin to me. I turn my blog over to Robbi this morning…

I ask that you send all of your love to Robins family at this time, as Robin prepares to leave here. Please wrap your arms around each of them and hold them close. Please comfort them and lift them up in prayer. Hold them in your heart. Keep them close to you today, as their angel adjusts her wings. Out time together is coming to a close and I ask you to give this family with all you’ve got. Robin will be going home very, very soon. Sister, may I say that you are looking most lovely this morning!

We wait our whole lives for things. We wait to be born. We wait to die too. All of the statistics about how long it will take and what it will look like…how it will feel…it’s not that way at all for me. Death isn’t a door as much as a letting go. Until you are ready to fully let go, you just don’t die. You wait. There is lots of waiting in life. There is lots of waiting in death too.

My angel types vigorously, trying to get my words to you. She will not know when I have gone, because we are traveling so intimately now. My words will continue after I’ve gone. I lie in wait. To you, I may look uncomfortable or uneasy. Dying is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. It’s the only thing that I’ll not be able to talk myself about of doing. Dying just is. My body and the energy it has acquired throughout my lifetime, are taking some time to readjust, to leave and to redistribute itself.

My body has always been problematic for me. Non-cooperative to my own dreams at times, I’ve had to overhaul her and modify her to fit my dharma, more than a time or two. Musics rhythm finds me and uptakes my processing to help me to take what I need and to leave the rest. I won’t be taking anything with me this time and so I’m learning to shed it all. The breath, the heartbeat, the broken body. It doesn’t all just fall away. There is a process to dying and shedding those years and experiences. To you, I’m just lying here dying. For me though, it not like that at all. I am here with you and I am gone from you, all at the same time.

Your music keeps me calm as I wander these halls inside, heading toward the light to find my exit out. Your love keeps me warm and safe. Your presence companies me while I ready myself for some time alone. This alone is different. This alone is solid. It’s just me going here for a bit, to be with me, alone.

A sorting process happens here. Sorting of what we had set out to do and what we actually did. Sorting of thoughts and emotions. Like a card catalog form the old days, every single card, book, author and all evidence of the Dewey decimal system pile in with me, to keep records of my time here. My numbers fly around me sinking themselves into place. All of my numbers, ever, fit perfectly somewhere. Who knew?

There are no coincidences and nothing happens by accident. We never meet strangers and we only have so much time. We get infinite second chances and we get a million do overs. We fuck up like a career choice and we still get hired. We fall and we keep on keeping on. Our body fails and other bodies come in to mend us. Words hurt us and life teaches us that it’s never the words that really hurt us. There are lines of people who we thought didn’t love us, lining up to tell us how much they really did love us. There is a sadness in that, as I am dying. I am out! This is done. Your love would have meant the world to me when I could have actually received it. Believe me, I really could have used your love. Now though…now you need my love, and you have it. You have always had my love. You are here to be loved before I die and can’t love you how you need me to right now. Death does not stop love. Life stops love. People living stop the love flow with all of their fears and rhetoric and unknowing. Death will never stop the glow of love and I love you just the same. Lining up outside my shell now to say goodbye, I see you. You want to get in close, one last time. I want you to get in close one last time. Being close to you has been a highlight of this lifetime. You are going to have to feel my love now because I cannot do more than lie here and let you come for it.

The complications and the decisions…the bills and the work days…the meetings and the travel and the abstaining from travel in illness…the doctors and the life prolonging measures…it’s all taking a quick minute to shut itself down.

A week with no food and I know my body is past its limit. Even for me, this has been one hell of a run. I’ve run more in this broken body than some Olympic swimmers have ever even swam. I have conquered mountains that make Mt. Everest look small in stature. I came here to have two beautiful babies. I know that was my greatest gift. My girls…and as I Trail off…my girls are my gift to this world, sitting here with me, keeping me safe and comfortable. I am going to miss my girls.

In life many people cannot talk about death. In death, there is no way around it. Death completes our life contract and I am nearing the end of mine. Fulfilled and signed, ready to hand in and be filed, I am simply standing in line, waiting with the others, for my next assignment. I am excited to go forth. I stayed longer to be sure I had all of my communication in place, to stay with those whom will keep me with them. Everything looks good and I begin my ascension. Fumbling with my angel to get my wings just right…I am preparing for my launch. My angel steadies me and says we can practice before I take the final leap. I love my angel and I’m so glad she came for me. She loves the word fuck as much as I do and we are one hell of a team! I needed the perfect angel to fly me home. Aiden is with us and he is walking me to Teddy and Duncan, on the other side of the rainbow bridge. All systems are a go. We are ready to launch. Take off is eminent. My time is coming and I am ready. I can’t look back now. Now it’s all upward and onward for me. It is finished. I am finished. Life has been good to me and I am off to my next adventure. Fear and worry not, for I am right where I belong. You are right where you belong. Our contracts have completed and we fly into the great unknown. Together always, for I am simply gone from your sight.

Written by Robin Dyer: I am a writer and writers always write.

My angel is eating and we must write. I am starving and yet I do not feel it. I am waiting it all out you know. All of whatever it is that says it will be one way or the other. It will be my way. Not because it must or must not be so…simply because it is so. It has always been so. Except for when it wasn’t so, and then it was going to someday be so. Anyway, I think it may be something I’ve not said. My angel said she will type all night if need be, for she wants me to put those wings on and try them out. This is her first pair of human wings and she wants them to fit me perfectly. Don’t tell her but I tried them out today while we were driving. It was a little shaky at first, but we fucking nailed it. This curb and that curb…we flew today. My angel and I crash landed into a donut shop (I shit you not!) with such precision that we must have flown past the speed trap that the officers had set up in the parking lot. My angel would not go offer them a donut. I howled as she considered it!! Had I my own voice, I would have offered them a donut. Just sayin…I don’t. If I did though…

This dying thing is really just a VERY FUCKING LONG PAUSE between living again. And long is subjective. For me, it’s not long. It really just is.

Dennis will tell you it’s long. His fucking fingers are falling off. He will play them right off the bone if he must, to sing and strum me home. Dennis keeps his word to be by me and I keep my word to wait for him, to leave. A gentleman. A beautiful, beautiful man and a man of his word…

Tiffany and Tam…I am reminiscing through their younger days. I am laughing with them. They are laughing at me though. I’m sure of it. And I hate to be a bitch, although I must …that damn movie, and those damn 🐢 turtles…girls, what is really going on? Do you want me to wait until my birthday, to watch it again? I do love you girls loving the turtles so much that you were sure I would love them so much too. I don’t. I do not love the turtles. I’m sorry. I just don’t and now I said it. Maybe that it what holds me here? Words unspoken…those damn ninja turtles…little bastards. Thank you though, for knowing this already. I just wanted to concur.

I write. Still, even here and now, I write. I am a writer. Writers always write. Behind their eyelids and underneath the shroud of death, writers write. I am a writer and my name is Robin Dyer. My writing will live on after I leave this earthly body. I’ve got it like that because I am a writer and writers always write.