Daily Cup of Impermanence
While my mother came home to my house to make her transition in January 2009,
I allowed my daughter to purchase two, white mice. I can still hear her now,
“But Mommy, they only cost two dollars.” I had vowed to not have anymore
animals in cages, but with all the time I was spending care taking my Mother, I
thought it would be a good thing for her to have something to nurture as well. I
lost my beloved dog of nearly 16 years three weeks before my Mom came to my
house so we were all very sad about that too. So, Charlotte and Mariline, came
home to find their place in our home. They were really sweet together,
Charlotte, the bigger and sweeter mouse was the one we played with the most,
because she was tamer, would just close her eyes when you would stroke her
head, and was content to sit in your lap. A few days after we got them, my Aunt
Peggy had come to stay with me while Mom got ready to make her transition. She
stayed in my daughter’s room, along with the mice. One morning I just happened
to get up very early, and there stood my Aunt with her pajama top held up,
cradling one of these mice. She had gotten up to go to the bathroom and the
mouse had squeezed out of the cage, and our cat was right there, just seconds
away from a morning snack. Her face was frozen, and I knew she was scared to
death, as she moved slowly towards me to deposit her find in my hands. Had she
not awakened right then, it would have been a tragic ending and a tearful
morning. I think the mouse she saved was Mariline, but I cannot be sure, as we
had only had them a day or two. She was for sure an angel that morning for that
mouse. My Mom passed later that week on January 25, and I will never be the
same after helping her to the other side. She brought me into the world, and I
helped her out of this one, and it was a full and complete circle of love and
life. All the family went home, we finished the last of the casseroles, and we
grieved and celebrated, and grieved some more.
Life went on, as it always does and will, and we grew more fond of these
mice, taking them out as often as we could. Charlotte got very sick with cancer
about five months ago, and we took her to the vet to end her suffering. The
entire staff was in tears as were we. My poor daughter loved this little pet so
much, and there was nothing we could do. We buried her on her little, pink
mouse bed, in the garden with a dozen other pets that have passed before her.
Now only Mariline was left. She was a bit wild, and ran in circles with grief
after her sister died. We now handled her more, and in time she mellowed and
turned into a completely different mouse. We thought about getting a new one to
keep her company, but then there would always be one left, and sometimes they
don’t accept a new mouse, so we decided to give her all the love we had as an
only child mouse.
Six weeks ago, my Aunt Peggy, the only child left in her family, passed away
on April 15th, and it was a bit of a shock. I never thought I would lose her so
soon after my Mother. I got to say my goodbyes over the phone and promised her I
would stay in touch with her kids, as she told me over and over again while she
stayed her with me, that this was a great worry for her, to leave her kids
behind. She was troubled being the only one left in her her family of origin and
said, “I am an orphan now.” She passed peacefully and I am now coming to terms
with her absence as well.
The remaining mouse, Mariline became ill about a month ago, and off we went
to the vet yet again. The two dollar mice are now worth two hundred dollars.
People thought I was crazy taking mice to the vet, but they were a part of our
family and we loved them as much as the dogs and cats. They didn’t really know
what was wrong with her but gave me some medication in hopes that it would help
her ears. Well, her ears never got better, and after I started using this
medication, she seemed much worse in other ways too. It may have just been a
coincidence, but she went downhill from there. I have looked in on her every
morning for a month thinking she would be gone, but she crawled into my hand
like every other day. In these last few weeks, I have held her in my lap while
I type, and have rubbed the side of her face with regularity, while she would
close her eyes, and bring her little paw up to her face in a sate of bliss.
Everyday, we would repeat this ritual, she would chatter at me, and I knew she
was happy and felt safe. The joy of being able to provide comfort to this tiny
creature was huge for me. I knew it would not last, and warned myself about how
it was going to feel when she was gone, but I chose to continue the ritual. I
knew that everyday I gave her love and comfort, I was giving it to myself as
well. That is how love is, you cannot keep it from yourself, when you give it
away. Today, I took her outside, it was nice, and I wanted her to feel the sun
for a bit, and get some fresh air. I held her on my lap for a short time, while
I rubbed her back, feeling her little backbone, where there once was fat. I
brought her cage out so she could be out in the backyard with me while I
watered. My fear was that she would die alone, and I would come home and find
her, but it did not happen that way. I saw her on her side in the cage and ran
over to scoop her up, she was leaving, and I wanted to hold her while she went.
I cupped her in my hands, just holding space for her, while she left. She took
her last little breath and that was that. The light was gone in her eyes, that
had been there just a second before. And like my Mother, I did now did not
recognize this little creature, she was just a body, devoid of the spark that
gave her the personality and love she had. I cried, and at the same time was
relieved for her. Her breathing had been labored for weeks, and I could not
believe she hung on so long. I think she hung on, because she knew I would be
coming for her, everyday, like I had been for weeks, and hold her in my lap in
the little, blue blanket while I worked on the computer.
So sixteen months later my dog, BJ, my Mother Ruth, Charlotte, Aunt Peggy and
Mariline are all gone. Each loss invokes the memories of the loss before. I
went back outside, to feel the sun, the cool water on my feet and listen to the
birds. I had this rush of “never again, don’t do it ever again Kat, Don’t put
yourself out there, protect yourself from the pain of loss, no more animals, no
more loves, it is the safer, saner way to be in this world. The pain of losing
the things you love is jut not worth it.” Just then a yellow finch came out of
nowhere and flew in a perfect circle above my head. My Mother sent ten finches
to the tree outside my window the day after she passed. I asked her if she
could swing it to let me know she made it to the other side okay before she
died, and I am quite certain they were her gift to me. I don’t have more than
one finch if any in my yard, and certainly not in the dead of winter. The
finches came all week, until the side of my house looked like an aviary. A year
to the date later, the finches came back to the same tree, and I smiled, knowing
full well, there was a magical power at work far bigger than I could ever
imagine. I know with love comes loss, you cannot have one without the other,
and I guess if I have to shed tears and feel the pain of losing the people and
things I love, truly it is a small price to pay for the gifts that love brings.
We all have that spark, and I don’t know where it goes, but it does not die.
Nothing is permanent but change, and with great love comes great great loss.
Even if you spend your entire life with the person you love, you ultimately will
have to say goodbye.
While my mother came home to my house to make her transition in January 2009,
I allowed my daughter to purchase two, white mice. I can still hear her now,
“But Mommy, they only cost two dollars.” I had vowed to not have anymore
animals in cages, but with all the time I was spending care taking my Mother, I
thought it would be a good thing for her to have something to nurture as well. I
lost my beloved dog of nearly 16 years three weeks before my Mom came to my
house so we were all very sad about that too. So, Charlotte and Mariline, came
home to find their place in our home. They were really sweet together,
Charlotte, the bigger and sweeter mouse was the one we played with the most,
because she was tamer, would just close her eyes when you would stroke her
head, and was content to sit in your lap. A few days after we got them, my Aunt
Peggy had come to stay with me while Mom got ready to make her transition. She
stayed in my daughter’s room, along with the mice. One morning I just happened
to get up very early, and there stood my Aunt with her pajama top held up,
cradling one of these mice. She had gotten up to go to the bathroom and the
mouse had squeezed out of the cage, and our cat was right there, just seconds
away from a morning snack. Her face was frozen, and I knew she was scared to
death, as she moved slowly towards me to deposit her find in my hands. Had she
not awakened right then, it would have been a tragic ending and a tearful
morning. I think the mouse she saved was Mariline, but I cannot be sure, as we
had only had them a day or two. She was for sure an angel that morning for that
mouse. My Mom passed later that week on January 25, and I will never be the
same after helping her to the other side. She brought me into the world, and I
helped her out of this one, and it was a full and complete circle of love and
life. All the family went home, we finished the last of the casseroles, and we
grieved and celebrated, and grieved some more.
Life went on, as it always does and will, and we grew more fond of these
mice, taking them out as often as we could. Charlotte got very sick with cancer
about five months ago, and we took her to the vet to end her suffering. The
entire staff was in tears as were we. My poor daughter loved this little pet so
much, and there was nothing we could do. We buried her on her little, pink
mouse bed, in the garden with a dozen other pets that have passed before her.
Now only Mariline was left. She was a bit wild, and ran in circles with grief
after her sister died. We now handled her more, and in time she mellowed and
turned into a completely different mouse. We thought about getting a new one to
keep her company, but then there would always be one left, and sometimes they
don’t accept a new mouse, so we decided to give her all the love we had as an
only child mouse.
Six weeks ago, my Aunt Peggy, the only child left in her family, passed away
on April 15th, and it was a bit of a shock. I never thought I would lose her so
soon after my Mother. I got to say my goodbyes over the phone and promised her I
would stay in touch with her kids, as she told me over and over again while she
stayed her with me, that this was a great worry for her, to leave her kids
behind. She was troubled being the only one left in her her family of origin and
said, “I am an orphan now.” She passed peacefully and I am now coming to terms
with her absence as well.
The remaining mouse, Mariline became ill about a month ago, and off we went
to the vet yet again. The two dollar mice are now worth two hundred dollars.
People thought I was crazy taking mice to the vet, but they were a part of our
family and we loved them as much as the dogs and cats. They didn’t really know
what was wrong with her but gave me some medication in hopes that it would help
her ears. Well, her ears never got better, and after I started using this
medication, she seemed much worse in other ways too. It may have just been a
coincidence, but she went downhill from there. I have looked in on her every
morning for a month thinking she would be gone, but she crawled into my hand
like every other day. In these last few weeks, I have held her in my lap while
I type, and have rubbed the side of her face with regularity, while she would
close her eyes, and bring her little paw up to her face in a sate of bliss.
Everyday, we would repeat this ritual, she would chatter at me, and I knew she
was happy and felt safe. The joy of being able to provide comfort to this tiny
creature was huge for me. I knew it would not last, and warned myself about how
it was going to feel when she was gone, but I chose to continue the ritual. I
knew that everyday I gave her love and comfort, I was giving it to myself as
well. That is how love is, you cannot keep it from yourself, when you give it
away. Today, I took her outside, it was nice, and I wanted her to feel the sun
for a bit, and get some fresh air. I held her on my lap for a short time, while
I rubbed her back, feeling her little backbone, where there once was fat. I
brought her cage out so she could be out in the backyard with me while I
watered. My fear was that she would die alone, and I would come home and find
her, but it did not happen that way. I saw her on her side in the cage and ran
over to scoop her up, she was leaving, and I wanted to hold her while she went.
I cupped her in my hands, just holding space for her, while she left. She took
her last little breath and that was that. The light was gone in her eyes, that
had been there just a second before. And like my Mother, I did now did not
recognize this little creature, she was just a body, devoid of the spark that
gave her the personality and love she had. I cried, and at the same time was
relieved for her. Her breathing had been labored for weeks, and I could not
believe she hung on so long. I think she hung on, because she knew I would be
coming for her, everyday, like I had been for weeks, and hold her in my lap in
the little, blue blanket while I worked on the computer.
So sixteen months later my dog, BJ, my Mother Ruth, Charlotte, Aunt Peggy and
Mariline are all gone. Each loss invokes the memories of the loss before. I
went back outside, to feel the sun, the cool water on my feet and listen to the
birds. I had this rush of “never again, don’t do it ever again Kat, Don’t put
yourself out there, protect yourself from the pain of loss, no more animals, no
more loves, it is the safer, saner way to be in this world. The pain of losing
the things you love is jut not worth it.” Just then a yellow finch came out of
nowhere and flew in a perfect circle above my head. My Mother sent ten finches
to the tree outside my window the day after she passed. I asked her if she
could swing it to let me know she made it to the other side okay before she
died, and I am quite certain they were her gift to me. I don’t have more than
one finch if any in my yard, and certainly not in the dead of winter. The
finches came all week, until the side of my house looked like an aviary. A year
to the date later, the finches came back to the same tree, and I smiled, knowing
full well, there was a magical power at work far bigger than I could ever
imagine. I know with love comes loss, you cannot have one without the other,
and I guess if I have to shed tears and feel the pain of losing the people and
things I love, truly it is a small price to pay for the gifts that love brings.
We all have that spark, and I don’t know where it goes, but it does not die.
Nothing is permanent but change, and with great love comes great great loss.
Even if you spend your entire life with the person you love, you ultimately will
have to say goodbye.
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