goodbye

She waited. I arrived in time to say goodbye. A fraction of the dog I left two and a half weeks ago for our family vacation barely lifted her head to greet me when I finally got home. The cancer has consumed her in what feels like record time.

Margo, the iguana and chicken chasing, sassy walking, happy hopping, mama loving babygirl lies next to me in my closet, one of her favorite spots in the house. Even in pain, she is graceful and quiet, braving her fate. All there is to do is be with her. Using whatever pillows I can find to cushion the unforgiving tiled floor, I make nests next to her like a child at a sleepover who doesn't want to share the bed. Looking for her ribs' rising and falling, I trace my hand down her sides, rub her neck and crinkle her ears, tell her how much I love her. As she rests, I type out words so that I might express the horrible, while also memorializing the why, how and now.

To be here, again, so soon, feels impossible and cruel, but I wouldn't change it for the world. The beauty and meaning endure because I got to love wholeheartedly and the love was returned to me unabashedly, even though we always knew there would be an end.

With a heavy heart,

St. Sunshine

Adieu ('to God" in Latin)

her form sags, every breath is a labor

each movement, even the opening and closing of her eyes, an effort

she cannot hide the failure of her body, the cloying smell of her own decay

you sit next to each other, in your own versions of discomfort

a goodbye never feels good

what you're about to lose crashes over you like a rogue wave

the foamy blue grief takes you down to the bottom of the sea

and you forget you ever lived in color

why are you never prepared

three times is not a charm

the return of death is nothing like riding a bicycle

inside the fading, practice has nothing to do with perfection

you must exist in the now, eating and laundry can wait

talking to her, loving all that she is, all that she's been

trying to find God as you witness her decline

swimming with the hurt as you struggle in your search

an unfair but familiar despair constricts your heart,

like when wet leather begins to dry, and shrink

time feels frozen and the frigates still soar above, the wind still rustles through the leaves

tears refuse to fall down your cheeks, instead they clog your throat

it's the longest day of the year, when the light's at its peak

you're in a tomb of lightless longing without a torch

unable to problem solve your way through the dark

unsure which way is up, which direction will lead you out

you hate the fate sitting before you

spitting into the wind, you pray for death to be quick

wishing you could start the embalming process already, lean into the many shiny memories

your prayers land on echos

you find all the faults in the world, questioning if you can still live among them

your anger, a muslin veil, along with bargaining and denial, is a temporary salve

you call on Mary's healing wisdom; Mother's, Magdalene's and Oliver's

and cocoon yourself with as much presence and acceptance you can muster

knowing you must soon say adieu and hand her over to God

now, all there is to do is wait in mingled aching

offer reverence to the oncoming void

prepare for the loss of a perfect being you love completely