“Is he gone?” I asked the vet, holding Micah’s head in my lap and looking down at his glossy brown eyes, I could not comprehend that his noble heart had stopped beating.
“Yes.” said the vet. “We are going to get out of your way, call me if you need anything.” I nodded, not trusting my voice. I clenched my fists in the soft rust-colored ruff of my beloved companion and could feel the iron grip on my emotions eroding away. I stretched myself across his still warm body and keened into his fur, holding his deep chest that spoke of his Chow and Akita heritage. Memories of how often I had soaked his fur with my tears since Justin’s death flooded behind my eyes.
Behind me I could hear the sound of the shovel cutting into the earth, above me the tree was filled with bird song, the sounds of death and the songs of life clashed together like a riptide. I felt the solidness and strength of the earth that held me as I lay holding my friend. The universe thrummed with life, except for the life that was the face of God for me.
God’s face had liquid chocolate for eyes framed by long dark lashes. His nose was straight, jet black when young, now frosted with gray. His ears were silky black, forever listening. God’s face had a warm wet tongue that kissed my tears away. God’s face pressed into mine with eyes of suffering, his face filled with confusion as the brain tumor stole his life. God’s face looked at me with trust and love.
I curled around his still warm body and stared up at the canopy of leaves of the generous Norway maple that draped her branches like arms around us. Doug had spread a new white sheet under the tree which I covered with a favorite blue fleece blanket. I regretted all the lost opportunities to rest under this magical tree with my companion when he was alive. Why is it only in death that we still our ceaseless activity?
The sounds of the shovel stopped from the corner garden. Taking Micah’s paws in my hands, I kissed each one, those sturdy paws that followed me as I wandered through the house at all hours of the day and night. I smoothed his fur one last time. Doug walked from where he had dug a deep grave for our friend and we shrouded Micah’s body in the softness of fleece and cotton.
Together we buried the face of God.
Dormit in Pace
Micah 6/1/2008 – 6/28/2016
Terri my heart hurts for you and this post is a beautiful tribute to Micah. On a lighter note, as we read this together, my 16 year old remarked: “Meanwhile, our dog just farted”
I can’t stop giggling, thank you. Thank you for reading and sharing in the moment of sorrow, and thank you for bringing a much needed smile! Wishing you both a wonderful evening!
Terri-
Your perfect words brought me right back to when we had to say goodbye to our beloved, McGhee. It was necessary, but Kent and I cried terribly. It was a sad, sad day for us as well. Still miss him.
Liz
Dear Liz, there are those like McGhee and Micah that you wish could have stayed forever, they fit like glove.
So beautifully written, Terri! “I regretted all the lost opportunities to rest under this magical tree with my companion when he was alive. Why is it only in death that we still our ceaseless activity?” This is a good reminder to take those opportunities even when we think there isn’t time. If we don’t, there will come a time when it’s too late and we’ll have missed out.
Your posts are always so touching and heartfelt, Terri. May God comfort, strengthen and give you much grace, for you are beloved.
Gayl
Dearest Gayl, your kindness always touches my heart. Thank you for the gift of your time to visit and share, I feel like we just had coffee together. The air was so fresh today that I made it point to sit outside for a few moments and absorb the sounds of the birds singing. I hope you have had some moments of sweet peace also. Much love to you, Terri
Thank you, Terri. I guess I didn’t take much time today to just relax outside, but I’ll make it a point tomorrow. It always helps to bring peace. I wish we could actually have coffee together. Maybe one day….
I am going to look forward to that cup of coffee Gayl!
So many beloved fur-family members I’ve had to wish good-bye. And I know they will be waiting for me. Because that is what they do best!
Thank you Diane for visiting and writing a note! And yes, that patient waiting. Always watching and waiting for our return home. Wishing you a very peace filled weekend.