learning to just let go.

i lived most of my growing years in an 1980's style home in an 80's style neighborhood doing 80's type of stuff and flair. you know, the good old days, those forever lost days of carefree play outside type of days. those days when you and your friends ventured outside on bicycles and yes, on feet. and those days when strangers too would play and spend incredible moments, outside, out in the sun.

so i raised animals. one pet(s) were a family of gerbils.

one day one of these gerbil babies was abandoned and rejected by its siblings, i noticed. and on closer look, it was quite plumpy and slow. something about it was obviously wrong, like as if it couldn't digest. as a kid i remember pinching it with my index and thumb fingers. i dont think i did it any favors by doing that. in fact, i was probably the cause of its death. anyhow, i buried it, in my backyard, underneath the best thing i knew of - the red rose bush (the size of a small tree).

but all i could think about was its soft fur. its eyes, its legs, its tail, and its disease, whatever it was. shortly after burying that gerbil baby, i dug it back up so i could see it once more and hug it once more. then i had enough, and it was time to really bury it, again, and for good. in its same burial ground under the red roses, along with cedar chippings from what it used to call home, i buried it there.

the gruesome death of my parakeet was no better. one morning i found that one of my two parakeets had its throat slashed. it was already dead and cold on the bottom. blood spilt and an open wound. its friend parakeet high up on the cage, too scared to even look down. i blamed it on a cat.

the passing of my best friend, Happy, was not any better either. his death was a slow and eventually a very painful one. one thing i remember most was when i was tying my shoes on the floor, with him lying down behind me and a good 6 feet away. i figured he was recovering from a mystery illness. but i should've known better. he was never known to be quiet. he was never known to be perfectly still. and yet there he was, 6 feet behind me, lying down, and not moving. as i finished tying my shoes i turn around and notice him only one foot away from me. he had crawled up to me, in complete silence. this too was not his style. i left to go to my stupid grade-school classes that day. as i left the front door, i looked back. happy hadn't moved from where i last touched him, from where i had tied my shoes. he died later that day from cardiac arrest. and I entered denial of his passing. and his canine body was requested to be dumped at the city dump yard. and there was no miracle. he never came back.

if you think i be a hardened veteran by now, you could not be any more wrong.

~ i am still learning to let go ~