The day I gave you back
A holy day marked in measure and sacred ritual of reverence and remembering
The day I gave you back to the earth marks a sacred ritual of reverence and remembering. It is a holy day marked in measure and will bear a scar all the days of my life.
The awaited call and news from the doctor, expressing her concern and unknowns of your diseased bladder, a body weak from blood loss, and that you would not survive another night forced me onto the cliff of collapse without warning.
Misplaced in a beaten fog, I saw the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. I choked on air as the center of my world vanished into narrow space.
A body and heart in alarm and locked, and a mind in fright, I ascended to another reality trapped in havoc and geography I could not comprehend, caught in a tremor of terror and the cruelest nightmare with no escape from waking.
How could this be happening? You were not supposed to die right now. It was my dad; he was the one who I was preparing to lose as I watched him die a slow death.
It was not how I had envisioned it would end. I prayed, pleaded, journaled, meditated, and manifested a peaceful death for you in the comfort of our home.
You hated the hospital, and I loathed bringing you. It haunts me still that you spent your last night in a cold chamber without me to warm your worries. Restless and far from reach, I felt your fear and tasted the bitterness of mine.
Unsure of the hours left of your beating heart and desperate to hold you one last time, we sprinted to the hospital. The drive was a blur, similar to the day before when we rushed you to the emergency room as you howled and panted.
The solidness of shock and impatience descended in the unsettling light as I anticipated your arrival in the distant sterile room. The nurse placed you in my arms, wrapped in warmth, a bittersweet site for throbbing eyes: a cone confined to a neck, a catheter harnessed to a leg, and eyes stoned from medication.
Agitated in my hug, I placed you on the floor to watch you pace, confused and scared. I turned on Medicine Buddha Mantra and sat on the floor, desperately waiting for you to return to me.
Within moments, you settled in my lap to comfort me one last time. You held me in my panic and pain. You, my salvation, who know me best, see me at my worst and adore me wholly.
I made the courageous call, but you gave me no choice. I quivered, bawled, and hesitated as I gave the doctor the orders to put out your precious life.
Had you accepted what I could not, what I still struggle to embrace?
The many days after your death, I woke worn with sorrow. I screamed it until my voice was raw. Sadness filled my time. It was where I lay bruised in the desolate landscape between the regions of empathy and the sharp mountain peaks of mourn shadowed in green and blue.
I questioned and seconded guessed, was it enough? I wept and yelled in my pleas; why did you take my sweet boy just ten days before my father would die when I needed him most?
It was you who walked me into the shadow of death. Because of you, I know kindness is the deepest thing inside. Because of you, I now know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
Seventeen years ago, and lifetimes before that, you journeyed through the night with purpose and plans, seeing your way to me like a river meets the ocean.
You raised your head from the crowd to say it is I you have been looking for. It was you that dug holes in my heart and freed my soul. You tied my shoes, opened the door, and sent me into the unknown. It was you that made sense in an uncertain world.
You came like a cloud, a great swarm of sunshine into every limb and branch, saturating my thirsty soul. You sharpened my spirit, expanded my dreams, and confirmed what it means to love unconditionally. Your innate quality and care gently cleansed me, restoring my body to balance and revealing my true and radiant skin.
It is you who continues to go with me everywhere like a shadow and a friend.
You stand in the void and divulge deep wells of sorrow. You release the scenes held hostage in my memory of the horror of our finale. You release the torture of self-judgment and doubt, the shoulds and shame, the what-ifs and regret, and the angst and fear.
You crawl in my lap, paw at my attention, gaze in my eyes, and I surrender into the tender gravity of kindness and return to the wellspring of rest within.
Time stands still, and the room spins into eternity, and there you are in my arms again as we dance in dedication to our loyal melody. I feel your breath, and I hear your purr. I open into the oneness of love. To the oneness that we will always be, and I am no longer afraid and alone.
Summer. Summer when you died. Summer gives and takes away.
This time, a year ago, I was slumped on the foot of the floor, sure I could not take another breath. I braved the long winter and darkest night of my soul. The intensity of your loss opened up the force for me to feel in ways I never felt.
Without knowingly planning, we faithfully prepared for this—you, my greatest teacher, accompanied by my tools and years of consistent and sincere efforts to Yoga and spiritual practices on and off the mat, proved their worth that fateful day.
The skills discovered and explored continue to stand the test of time and walk with me into the canyons and crests of my sorrow and harvest my soil. They yielded an inner strength in my most challenging moment and what was revealed to become my most difficult year.
Despite my urge to resist, a habit learned long ago, a willingness arrived the day you died and remains present in the many days delayed. In the desolation of my grief, the struggle has started to diminish, and being with my weakness has become my greatest strength.
Like our love, grief has no borders. When I rope the limbs of embrace around uncomfortable emotions, I find my way back to center and stability. I find my way back to you.
A destiny impossible to control yet written in the stars, our story did not end that fateful day on the floor; it has only just begun. Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me.
The day you were born was the rebirth of me, and the day you died was a reawakening of my soul. Your death, a revered contract, secured endless love into infinity.
I now risk and weather the storms and continue to find course in the delicate veil between life and death, the thin fabric between joy and sorrow, discouragement and inspiration, two easily torn worlds now sewn by your tender touch.
You sit with me now like dappled shadows spearing through the trees and singing through my words. The sky is opening up for the sun, for you and me—the light wavers over the ridge, rising and falling, fading and favorable. You and I are where the light begins, always and forever.
This post is in honor of Jax, Stinky, Stinky Boo, Stinks Varellas; thank you for a lifetime of love and kindness; April 2006 - June 13, 2022
Prompt
You might begin by writing with one of the following:
the day I gave you back
tender gravity of kindness
where the light begins
Grab a pen and paper or your favorite journal. Set your timer. Write for 15 minutes, pen never leaving the page. See what words flow.
Comment if you try. I would love to hear about your journey and experience with intuitive flow writing!
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This was wonderful babe.
Heartbreak is life educating us.
Pure love ❤️!