A strong woman turned into a quivering voice on the other end of the phone, “He is too weak to move.”
Focused sirens intent on their task disrupted my quiet neighborhood.
She didn’t know what to do, “I always said when he lost his dignity …”
Three stretch limos rolled by.
Mom called this morning with the strength to talk about my cat, at first. Somewhere about half way through the conversation the woman in pain, the woman losing her only companion since being walked out on 8 years ago, came through. Her heart was breaking and she could not hide it any longer.
My cat will die this week. I have no choice. He will die. She will never be sure she did the right thing, no matter how he dies. The ache of self-doubt will haunt her with every piece of his life she puts away to stop the reminders of what will not be. The silence of her empty house will be enough to make her ears bleed.
I have been prepared for two years to say goodbye to him, but I am not ready for this to be his week. My mom is not ready for this to be his week. She is not ready to lose the last piece of the family she built, the family she still dreams about and will never have.
The passengers in motorcade that drove by must be feeling something of the same things. Three stretch limos and no less than five other vehicles with their hazards on followed the ominous black hearse as it drove by. Did they get to say goodbye? Did their loved one have a good life? Do they doubt themselves and what they could have done? How will they fill the hole that is left? Will they be able to mend their broken hearts?
Desperate tears seeking guidance are falling across the world today.
In moments like these, I can’t help but be convinced that empaths are real. I am covered in a heavy cloud of thoughts and emotions that are not my own. I am crying the tears my mother has put away so that she can go to work. I am aching to hug the people that drove by and tell them that I understand. I am praying for rain. I am praying for a long, heavy, downpour of rain – the kind of rain that you cannot feel until you have been soaked to the bone and a still peace has been brought to your core.
Dear God, please let the rain find those hearts that so badly need a rest. Please, let them find their peace. Please … just rain …
Damn.
Posted by: Joe at September 1, 2006 12:17 AM