Grief, after the fact š„
It is a strange thing, to hold your grief in your arms.
To watch it swirl into the shape of an old rabbit,
grey-eared and limping. To hand
feed it sweet-smelling food the color of clouded eyes.
Grief doesnāt always come after; it comes during, too.Heās a proud creature, and crust does not suit
his royal coat. Itās the brushing that helps me count
out my grief before it arrives:Ā One,Ā (one thousand snuggles),
two,Ā (two thousand kisses), three,Ā (three thousand āI love yousā).You wouldnāt think, with how fragile
human hearts are, that we could handle it.
But holding joy and grief at the same time
is precisely theĀ onlyĀ thing they are designed for.
I wrote this a month before I said goodbye to Rory. I feel like itās important to remind myself how much he was surrounded by love for so much of his life. This is what I said about it:
āToday, I snuggled my 12 year-old rabbit Rorschach and fed him mint āmushā for dinner. He is happy, and beautiful after a good grooming. If, by the time I read this note, he is no longer snuggled into the crook of my elbow, Iāll take this note as a reminder that I did not take him for granted.ā