A/N: Sometimes words are spectacularly inadequate to express our feelings. No combination of letters will accurately describe this event; and yet the flow of ink from my pen relieves a bit of the stress on my heart. I think Gustave Flaubert said it best:
"As though the fullness of the soul did not sometimes over flow into the emptiest of phrases, since no one can express the exact measure of his needs, his conceptions, or his sorrows, and human speech is like a cracked pot on which we beat our rhythms for bears to dance to when we are striving to make music that will wring tears from the stars."
-Gustave Flaubert from Madame Bovary
Below is a record of my memories from the third day of January, 2009. More than a year has passed since this day but only now I am able to write this. You are warned; it is about death and loss.
You know that terrible sinking feeling people speak of when they know a nightmare is realized, well it is really more a terrible rising. A choking, heart-stopping terror that wrenches through your intestines, pierces your heart and races up your throat before exiting as an inaudible scream. I know, today I felt it. Today he died.
Beautiful, fool-hardy boy, he took off in a burst of enthusiasm that ended with him broken in the ditch. I dropped every thing and sprinted to his side. He felt the terrible rising too, I saw it in his wide, white-rimmed eyes. I fell to my knees beside him murmuring calming words too sooth us both. I guess it was morning then, but it did not matter for time became irrelevant.
The sun rose slowly on an un-January like morning, almost warm with a mild breeze. Family, vets, and time passed but I saw only him. I smoothed his coat until my fingers were cakes with dust, dirt, and grime but his neck gleamed smooth and glossy. I pulled up the choice grass until my fingers bled from the sharp, thin winter hardened blades. I did not eat, I did not drink, I did not leave his side for even a moment…this was to be our last day together. Sometimes I would sing to him, sometimes I would mumble streams of words to him, sometimes I would weep for him. I knew but still I clung to the hope that I could save him, that this was not the end. Yet with each passing beat, my heart was scrapped from my chest like the carving of a jack-o-lantern. Don't leave me!
Time didn't matter but still it passed. Twilight was falling, the half moon glowed over head and the sun nestled deep in the bare tree tops. As if they too would linger, staying with him a few precious minutes more. The sedative worked quickly, his head was heavy in my arms. I had wanted to stay to the bitter end (he deserved that much). I had not realized how bitter it would be. So I showered him with cookies, kisses, and my love. I regretted every hour I spent away from him, and clung to every moment I had left. His lids grew heavy over his deep usually expressive eyes. I kissed his nose. I kissed his star. I said "I love you" and "good-bye". Then I walked away and never looked back; some bitterness is beyond bearing.
Now he is gone. Not in my heart, of course, but physically gone. And everytime I hear his name, see his photo or gaze at his empty stall; I will weep. For a while, on the outside for all to see but forever on the inside where a piece of my soul is torn out.
My perfect ideal boy! There can never be another. I will remember your beautiful gait, your reluctant acquiescence to my embrace, your intelligent eyes, and our many happy years together. For all my existence, my wonderful boy, I will love you! Rest in peace.