When a human passes away it takes three days for the spirit to leave the earth and make a transition to the other side. Over the years we’ve learned the importance of the grieving process . Before the departed can return to the other side we must let go of them as quickly as possible so they can get back to the universal collective consciousness with the knowledge they gained on earth or there’s a possibility they might forget it.

The acceleration of this process I call EXTREME GRIEVING. The harder you grieve initially for a lost one the easier it is for adjustments to be made so you both can move on.

 A long time friend of mine, Normand Kurtz lost his 40 year old son last year. My friend had so much he wanted to say to him before his passing that he wrote a letter to him every day while he was in the hospital making his transition. I suggested to keep writing to him after he passed, however painful it might be, and it would keep their lines of communication open.

Ironically, it was Normand’s songwriter father Mann Curtis (“”GONNA’ LIVE ‘TIL I DIE!”, “ANAME CORE”) almost 40 years ago who got me to write about my own unexpressed emotions.

When I was General Professional Manager of Warner Brothers Music in Hollywood 1974, I came back to New York to go to my Grandmothers funeral. I didn’t plan to conduct any business, but I wanted to drop by our New York offices to say hello.

Henry Marks, who ran our professional department, was in a meeting with songwriter Mann Curtis. I was thrilled and taken aback at the same time. My Grandmother’s name was Winifred Manns…and meeting Mann Curtis at this moment didn’t seem like just a coincidence.

Mann had written the English lyric to “Let It Be Me”, to French composer Gilbert Becaud, Pierre Delanoe’s music, which was not only one of my favorite songs, but was also a level of excellence I aspired to every time I wrote a song myself.

I felt humbled to be in the presence of this man, who looked more like a hip college professor than a Tin Pan Alley songwriter. I felt honored when he shared some of the verses to “Let It Be Me” that didn’t make the final cut…I only wish I had written them down.

As I got up to leave, I told Mann that I stopped being a songwriter when I started plugging songs for Warner Brothers, but I was feeling compelled to write again due to my Grandmother’s passing. He looked at me, smiled and said, “You never stop writing….you never stop being a songwriter.”

Deep in thought… I went back to my hotel and sat crying uncontrollably. Rather than distract myself with the outside world, I stayed in my room and wrote down everything I knew or felt about my grandmother, who was the closest person to me who had ever passed away. I just let it all hang out, and called it unashamedly, EXTREME GRIEVING. The toxic tears I was releasing soon became tears of joy.

During the three-day period, from the time she passed until her funeral …Gooma, as I called her, came to me in my darkened hotel room several times. She talked to me in her usual comforting tone… told me not to cry or be afraid. She smiled and said I should be happy for her…that she was finally out of pain.

She didn’t look like the 83 year old that I revered…but like the thirty year old, whose picture lived in the family album. She sat across from me slightly illuminated by what seemed to be a light coming from within. She told me that we all have guides from the other side who anonymously give us information everyday…but from now on she would be my personal guide.

She told me not to tell my Mother or my aunt Wan about these visits right now…someday they’d understand. Then I remember writing…

From The Inside

by Artie Wayne

Like a star in the midnight sky…your love was there to guide me

When I was weak, too weak to try…you’d be right there beside me

Urging me on…Makin’me strong…”you’d keep sayin’,


“Go on boy…you can do it.

It’s only life… there’s nothin’ to it…

Just the seein’ through it “From the Inside”

I spread my wings, left the nest…swearin’ nothin’ would get by me

I tasted love and I tasted life…but not enough to satisfy me.

But leading me on…makin’ me strong…I heard you sayin’,


“Go on boy…you can do it.

It’s only life… there’s nothin’ to it…

Just the seeing through it From the Inside.”


(Then I stopped writing…I couldn’t trivialize this experience and turn it into a pop song. …But when I put a rose on her casket, as they were lowering her into ground…I was given the final verse.)


Like a star in the midnight sky…that fades into the morning

Came back to show ya’ I could fly.. you were gone without a warning

But lingering on…still makin’ me strong I hear you sayin’,


“Go on boy…you can do it.

It’s only life…there’s nothin’ to it…

Just the seein’ through it…From the Inside.”
Copyright-1974/2006 Rondor music

Of the 15 cover records over the years, including Lynn Anderson, Cilla Black, Yvonne Elliman this demo we did with Janelle Sadler is my favorite! Art Munson and I produced it, and Wedigo Watson directed the video click here  

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Painted clouds…photographed, colored, and designed by “Lezlie Sokol”, ~ © 2010 by Gwynn Graphix & Painted Cloud Photography http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1581289451558&set=a.1461857505834.64834.1215335979#!/profile.php?id=1215335979&v=info

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When a human passes away it takes three days for the spirit to leave the earth and make a transition to the other side. When a pet passes away the process takes the same amount of time.

The pet is more confused at first, but becomes more accepting of what’s going on when they are reunited with their animal friends on the other side, who are there to help with the crossover. The pet is happy to go back “home”, unless they’ve formed an exceptionally strong bond with their earthly caretaker, which makes them want to stay on earth a little longer to make sure their “human” is going to be all right without them.

We can be assured, that these little spirits will be watching out for us for the rest of our lives. I can attest that many long gone animal friends have come back to me in dreams, meditations, and semi-darkened rooms, during times of stress or loneliness and helped me get through the agony of it all.

As I’m sitting on the patio by the hummingbird feeder my little pal, Larry, flies by and I can almost feel his wings sympathetically touch my knee as I weep for my little pal Streaker, who had to be put down a few days ago or face a long painful illness.

When my friend, Allan Rinde moved toNashville to get married, he asked me to take care of his little calico cat, Streaker and her boyfriend, a 23 lb. white tom called Whoppy, because his future wife was allergic.

For the past 14 years Allan has paid for their food, toys, and thousands of dollars in medical expenses. When Whoppy passed two and a half years ago, “Streak” and I became closer sharing my pillow, as well as a place at the dinner table. About a year ago, after Allan got a divorce he offered to rent me a couple of rooms in his house in Palm Springs, where we’ve lived ever since.

Although he hadn’t spent much with her over the last decade, Streaker loved Allan and when we all lived together “Streak” would sit in front of his computer, all night long acting as his assistant. While Allan spoiled her with gourmet cat food, exotic toys, and even a recirculating water fountain, I kept her paws on the ground by yelling, “ARE YOU CRAZY?”, and sentences ending in “ucker”, whenever she got out of line.

I close my eyes, visualize her and tell her that it’s time for her to go and I’m going to be alright. Whoppy, who’s come back to escort her “home”, looks contented, but Streaker give me one last look goodbye…then sadly walks away.

I want to call out, “Don’t go!”, but the three day window of transition is closing fast and if they don’t leave now they could become trapped between here and the other side for eternity!

As I sit weeping, my little friends disappear into the morning…and a few minutes later Larry the hummingbird reappears to introduce me to his new girlfriend. He senses that this isn’t a good time, and they both bolt off into a sky full of fluffy white clouds.

As I watch them leave, I gaze up, and for a few minutes watch the clouds change forms, as clouds are known to do. I smile as I see likenesses of all the animal friends I’ve had in my life, Waldo, my parakeet in grade school, my aunt Wan’s dogs Fluffy and Queenie, who protected me from bullies, Chipper, the little spitz, who turned nasty and had his name changed to Al for Al Capone, then when he became nice again, changed it back to Chipper!

There was Walter, who led my grandmother to safety through a fire, Duke, Harold, Pete, Tippy, and of course, my little Cairn Terrier Nookie, my companion for 12 years.

Even though I know Streaker’s in good company…it doesn’t  mean I’m going to miss her any less….but seeing Whoppy and Streaker playing together again in the clouds, and in my medical marajuana tinted memories is inspiring and proof positive that true love lives forever.

Goodbye my monkey friends…until we meet again.

Love Artie

CURRENTLY MY ONLY SOURCE OF INCOME IS FROM THE SALE OF MY BOOK. ” I DID IT FOR A SONG”, WHICH I RECEIVE IMMEDIATELY. I HOPE YOU’LL CONSIDER BUYING ONE DIRECTLY FROM ME THROUGH PAYPAL FOR ONLY $9.99 AT  artiewayne@gmail.com OR BY CHECK TO…ARTIE WAYNE  P.O. BOX 1105, DESERT HOT SPRINGS, CALIFORNIA 92240

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