When Maxie Dies
(and she did not, as I wrote this, thinking she was leaving me. She was born on May Day (2008) and died on May 30, 2019. We have yet to get new carpet. The table moving reference is because her vision was occluded, and moving things messed with her head. Her needs above my wants):
When Maxie dies, I’ll bury her in marigolds. I’ll soften the frozen ground with pieces of my heart. When Maxie dies, we’ll move the table closer to the window, so I can feel the Winter sun. We’ll get new carpeting. I’ll go away for days and not worry how she’s doing. When Maxie dies, there will be no chewing of cardboard in this quiet house. No ripping of newspaper, no skittering nails across the kitchen floor. When Maxie dies, and there are no more rabbits, I don’t know how I can live without sorrowing. Cherishing, smiling, remembering, Maxie teaches me to hold both the joy and the sadness tenderly. To see the colors in the tears, like tiny rainbows, sent as a blessing, a reminder, a great hope. When we all meet again, in that endless glory, and all our pain has been washed away, everyone we Love will return to us, for always (and if I am wrong, is it not the most beautiful dream ever? I will die believing it, and my life will be for the better). When Maxie dies, her sweet love Doodle, and Petey and Missy (the friends she’s never met), will come bounding over the flowery meadows to lead her into Light. Met with such Love, I am not afraid for her. When Maxie dies, may her passing be peaceful. May I release her sweet vessel back into the beauty of the earth and may her soul, and the souls of all my rabbits, join together in a song of praise, for the marvel and magic of a life lived in Love.
For my dear Maxie (if you are to live 10 more years, I welcome that. Don’t feel I am rushing you, thinking ahead as I do), and Doodle and Petey and Missy. Addendum: her passage was not peaceful. Her BP was so low, inserting the catheter was difficult.
LBM 11/15/2018
