As he lifted his head in the early dawn light the air of calamity seemed to lessen. For a moment he was him again, enjoying the cool breeze before a summer storm. Nothing more. No disease, no doctor’s visits, no medicine just him and nature.
That morning while the birds called for the dawn and the wind chimes sang of peace he was in my arms. It was fine that he kept his eyes closed, there wasn’t much to see before dawns light. It was okay that he didn’t want to walk on his own, because he didn’t need to be moving to stop and savor this moment.
I held him close and told him he was loved, he was safe, and he was not alone. It was true the love that had surrounded him his whole life was a vast and impressive thing. I am certain he knew this. That he was safe felt almost like a lie. I had been unable to protect him from this unstoppable force, was proving too weak to beat back death much longer, but I would move heaven and earth to help him as long as humanly possible. That he knew. He was never alone now, one of us was always within hands reach ready to comfort or care. What I hoped he heard in those words was that he would never be alone… he would always be a part of us and his father and I would always be a part of him.
He was my heart made real and my twin soul.
When it finally happened I was holding him while my husband held his hand and gently touched his face. There could never be enough time to say I love you or even goodbye. This impossible moment was much like falling asleep in that it had been ultimately unavoidable and caught us unaware. As he relaxed in my arms we shed our tears, cried our sorrows that he could not stay with us, and pressed our love upon him. There may have been sun in the sky and happy flowers in the room, but the house felt empty now.
We remember. We cry. We love. We cry. We live. We cry.
He is in everything as he ever was. I feel him everywhere and hear him in the back of my mind constantly. I search for his signs in the breeze, butterfly wings, and stars. Maybe when the exhaustion subsides I’ll even dream of him. A beautiful dream where he plays joyfully and rests easily. Where I lay a kiss upon his head and tell him “Good night kiddo, sleep well.”
Till then I’ll take it breath by breath waiting for our paths to cross again.
On July 17th our beagle Finnegan lost his battle with liver disease. We had him 15 years and our hearts are broken now that he is gone. Finn we love you and miss you.
b00kreader 