The Visit

I found her running through the woods last night. Not like the clustered saplings beyond our backyard. This was a forest. Far from home. Full of foreign trees swaying in the wind. Wooden giants whispering across vast canopies. A congregation of thousands, slowing me from reaching her, praying for me to “let her go…” But I didn’t listen. I called her name again and again in vain, even though she couldn’t or wouldn’t hear me over their deafening plea.

I knew I did not belong there with her. Fraught with resentment and grief. Running wild. Trespassing on God’s country. Glimpsing her silhouette through the trees like an elusive nature spirit in an enchanted orchard. And the awe that washed over me when we broke through the pine grove. How the blades of grass seemed to bow before her in the wind. Her auburn hair danced like flames against the darkening sky when she finally looked back at me. My voice had reached her across the open field. Vying for her attention over the call of great adventure. Glorified. Young. Restored. She turned her head from me. Toward an outcropping where whitewater sang through rocks in the distance. And I knew which voice she had chosen. Even though I knew, I still called after her. It was so unlike her to run from me.

Back into the thicket. I ran after her for I don’t know how long, hoping she would lead us back home. I knew I was hopelessly lost. I couldn’t even see her anymore. But I felt her presence as the sun was beginning to rise upon familiar trees. The soft, blue light of morning shone through the woodland beyond our backyard. The way it looked before contractors would come to raze it. I ran through those trees like so many vertical ghosts, sighing with relief at the thought that we were home, and she hadn’t forgotten me after all.

Once inside, I found her lying on the floor before her urn. That’s when I became suddenly aware; I was dreaming. That’s when I knew; This was not just a dream. Her eyes full of love gazed up into mine, and I fell to my knees beside her, throwing my arms around her neck without a second’s hesitation. She melted into me. Not like she often did at all. She was never a fan of too firm embrace. But I melted too as tears ran down with the reassurance that she was never running from me at all. She was simply running free.

I let go but refused to take my eyes off her. Her coat was like dew drops and gossamer now. Pale and thin. Fading with the rising sun. I knew if I looked away, she’d be gone from me. I feared blinking. Do we blink in dreams? I suppose we don’t, because she remained by my side, looking up into my eyes with more compassion than humanly possible. Gone was the white from her muzzle. Gone were any signs of the cancer that had ravaged her body. I wanted her to stay, just like this. To haunt me every night. Her lifetime had seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye.

Despite myself, I looked away. Maybe it was to call Mom and Dad to witness her too. Maybe she didn’t want me to see her fade away again. Like yesterday. Holding her in my arms. Feeling her fear. Her uncertainty. Her last heartbeat. No. I think she knew two goodbyes would be too hard for me. So, she made me look away while she quietly slipped back through the woods in our yard. Back to her pine grove. Back to her new home.

I awoke remembering the empty spot on the floor where she had just been, and I wept. I wept remembering the floor, flooded with radiant morning light. Her spirit scattered everywhere! In every particle of light that reached even the darkest corners of our home. Of my heart.

It’s there she lives. As close as she’s ever been. As much a part of me as she ever was. My best friend. The furry pillow for a child to rest its head on. The cold, wet reassuring nudge to a teen in existential crisis. The reason for laughter that still rings through my body and soul with purity and innocence. The ecstatic song that greeted me after a long day of work spent with tone deaf humans. The warm brown eyes that taught me volumes on love without having to utter a word for nearly half of my life. Half of me, filled with her love. An invaluable treasure trove of memories to keep.

All these things I get to keep with me! The photo of her wearing those silly butterfly wings. The one Dad swears he took, but I remember taking so vividly. How she raised her paw to the camera because she loved to look pretty. Why I now think of her every time I see a Monarch. Or a robin! Like the ones that scampered alongside us so often on our walks. Their breasts so close to the color of her fur. The popular songs on the radio that play on my commute. The ones that I heard when I had a long day of work and would look so forward to going home, just to receive one of her amazing greetings. The ones that made me feel like the most important person in the world. All these things that I get to keep make me stop and say, “Hi Sammy.”

But my favorite, my very favorite thing to keep from her visit with me, is the angel that now sits on my desktop. As stupid as it sounds, it still greets me unexpectedly, even though I know it’s there. Transporting me to my first glimpse of eternity. When she sniffed the salt air with the sense of adventures yet to come, even though we both knew this one would be our last together. Laying on the sand before the shore. Tired and thin. But looking right into the camera. Right into my soul. Even still. I imagine that’s how she’ll look at me again. When she turns to see me coming to her forest by the lake. Home to stay. Forever.