December 17, 2013
Henri,
the mini horse died today. He was the sweetest little pony that frequented the local
nursing home, to nuzzle the elderly, delight the staff, nibble on baby carrots,
and make new friends. It was sad, sad news. I am sorry for his owners as well
as all of the others, who have been so deeply touched by this pretty little
horse. Difficult having these wondrous creatures in our lives, knowing they leave
behind a vast abyss, when they depart.
This is
the season for losing folks (and animals) as you may know. People tend to break
away during the holidays, leave the suffering, weak bodies, loneliness, aftermath
of disease, heartache, and agonizing pain behind. It is difficult to imagine
why they would choose to exit, especially when there are family members, loved
ones who weep and mourn their death. Yet, I look at the 90th
birthday photo of a friend’s mother, who lost her husband this summer. Her face
shines vacant and weary, worn and empty, with an Alzheimer’s stare. She
disappears into the lap of her son, melding into the Christmas tree behind. I
pray she still has the ability to experience joy, the passion of life and awe
of each breath.
When a
child leaves, it becomes an even greater challenge to accept the loss. I recall
a young couple, very close friends of my boyfriend, whose daughter drown in the
pool out back. The words, tragic accident, are unfulfilling in this case. I
recall the victim’s father, Brian’s face, just after, pale, astonished,
disbelieving and terrified. The faith, he once carried like a sure trophy, was
swiped, when he failed to turn in time, to see her sink to the bottom. Brian
had left the gate unlatched to the pool as he ran to his truck for the
contract. The family Black Labrador, barking frantically at the descending
form, alerted his business partner. The ambulance was beckoned, arrived
seemingly in time, yet the EMT, unable to resuscitate, switched off his siren,
in dejection, on the way to the hospital. Brian, following in his work truck,
at a racecar pace, nearly crashed in horror. It was clear he had to be the one
to tell his wife, the mother of their three year old, that she was dead,
because of his neglect.
As much
as we plead, beg, promise, scream, cry, pant, rave, stomp and wail, it does not
change the outcome. Prayers certainly help one feel productive and calmer,
sometimes. The aftermath is traumatic and everyone has to deal with it in their
own way, their own time. I can only promise to listen, lend an ear, make a
dish, take over the laundry, send a card, hold a hand, and listen. Nothing is
worse that having someone you care about suffer the emptiness and loss. Yet, it
is inevitable.
I am
sorry for your loss.
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