Memorial Day of Spring Equinox

Dear Web,

Today is Memorial Day...I've been depressed by memories. And I am doubting that any of this is making any sort of difference because every day when it's all said and done, Phoenix is not here. No matter how I write about it, talk about it, think about it, wish and rage about it, he's gone. And I wonder, who is this re-telling to serve? And how will I know if I am really making a difference with this memorial?

And...what else is there to do? This is my act of faith, my act of healing something that feels forever torn. It's the act of love and respect for a Being who (for good or bad) never took his eyes off of me, always had my back, made me laugh in spite of myself and dutifully waited for me to return. This is for Phoenix and I. This is how I will wait for his return.

And so, I turn back to March 20th, Spring Equinox, the day following his death. There are three women who come to help dig a grave for Phoenix to return him to the Earth after my almost 18 hour vigil with him. My journal has one sentence to record that day:
"Four women from the four corners Return Phoenix to the Earth."
It was exactly that: we each sat at the edge of the grave and hand full by hand full, we broke up the dug up dirt and gently let it fall around his sweet body. It was totally silent except for the sound of earth falling. We didn't plan it ahead; it was magically natural like we already knew what needed to be done and how. There was a peace to it, even though at the time I did not feel peaceful. My hair was frayed and crazed; my eyes looked wild animal like. And I felt just like that: frayed, crazed and wild animal-ish. Yet, there I was doing something deeply peaceful for my beloved companion on Spring Equinox.

Two nights later I dreamed that I look at myself in the mirror and see myself exactly like I am after cutting my hair by his grave site the day after his burial. The skin on my face in the dream is peeling, like from a burn. When I wake up from this dream I go to actually look at myself in the mirror and notice that the skin above my upper lip is peeling. I am grateful that my dream time is reflective of reality for me. That's often been the case, but I am especially grateful for it now. It's something to count on. It reminds me that Spirit is there just on the other side. And if Spirit is there...perhaps, Phoenix is too. Though he has not come to me in a dream or in any way....yet, I tell myself. Not, yet, dear one.

So, on this Memorial Day, I remember Phoenix and his Return to the Earth. I remember my own process of transformation. I remember Spirit. And I remember that we are all connected. One way or another. I hope.

In memory,
Melissa

Going back 8 days

Dear Web,
I went for a hike on my birthday, 8 days before Phoenix was killed. It was a quick hike because I had to be somewhere, but one of the things I wanted for my birthday was a hike with Phoenix since it had been such a harsh cold winter and we didn't have much activity...except for the sled pulling!! That's another wonderful story that I'll get to.

So we hiked along the river for a while until the trail took up switch backs to a rock outcropping. It had been several years since we'd done this hike and I think it was on my birthday then too. It was a pretty typical March day in the mountains--rainy, then a break, then cool, then misty. I didn't mind one bit and Phoenix was so exhilarated to be off leash. As we climbed, my eyes caught site of a rock in the shape of a heart. I slowed down and started to pick it up but talked myself out of it--I have so many found objects that I often lose track of their uniqueness or the situation that made them unique. So, onward and upward we climbed. At the rock outcropping I could see the very full river below and the rolling mountains near and far. I made my birthday wish (which I cannot recall it now) turned to see Phoenix right by my side as usual, smiled at his sweet loyalty and kinship and turned back down the trail.

I'd forgotten about the rock. My mind was already moving on to thinking about how much time we had. Phoenix had this thing he'd do sometimes...I might move something in the house that hadn't been moved in a really long time, something as small as a shell and when he'd return to the room, he'd go right to the object or where the object used to be. Sometimes we made a game out of it. His instincts were incredible. So, even though I'd forgotten about the rock, he hadn't and went right to it as we approached. Because of that, I picked it up and considered it a birthday gift from him.

Needless to say, I will not forget this found object, this heart not to be left behind.

So, dear Web, please weave this heart back into your tapestry as I courageously re-turn to the day after the murder, Phoenix cradled in my arms.
Love,
Melissa

Going back a bit more...

Dear Web,
The way a web flows is kind of like a labyrinth...there is a distinct pattern, yet to follow the threads, one can lose track of direction. Forwards looks like backwards: 'progress' can lose its meaning. However, both a web and a labyrinth are whole structures, complete, in their integrity. There is order, though there may be seem to be disorder. And so, like weaving a web and walking a labyrinth, I meander my way through more of this telling...

The morning of March 19th was like most mornings, though I remember it more distinctly, of course. The most distinct memories of that morning are looking at Phoenix resting in his chair while I ate my breakfast and saying good-bye to him at the door. There is this thing he and I'd do with one another across the room--we'd make eye contact, or not, and 'beam love' to one another. Sounds corny as I write it and think about others reading it, but there is nothing corny or artificial about the experience. It was an experience that was visceral. I could feel it all over, both the sending and the receiving. We did that that morning. I remember feeling tired and knowing I had a long day at work ahead, then I glanced at Phoenix in his chair and felt the energizing love that we could send back and forth in an instant....or an eternity. Time always stood still.

The good-bye at the door was ordinary and precious too. He always stood by the glass door as I readied myself to leave. He was a watcher, always watching the driveway for activity. So, we did our routine of me telling him I was going to work and would come back: "You stay. Mama goes and Mama comes back. Promise. I always come back." I touched his head and his sweet ears that feel like lamb's ears. I looked in his eyes and tell him I love him. And I meant it. That's the thing with Phoenix (and all of my animals), when I say it, it is clear and full of intent. I never squandered my love for Phoenix. There was never a time that I withheld love or said it and didn't mean it with all my heart. It was pure and honest. Never muddied with ambiguity or conditions. And for that I am immensely grateful, because in all of my grieving I never once regretted that my time with him wasn't full and true.

So, I am comforted by these two memories even though they well up the grief of loss again. How precious was our love and what we were to one another that can never be duplicated.

Love,
Melissa Mama

Going back...

Dear Web,
I must now go back...to that night I came home from work on March 19th and discovered what happened. I look to my journal which, I vividly recall, took me days afterwards to be able to write in, even just a few words. Here's the record:

March 19, 2010
Unspeakable horror
Unforgivable
Incomprehensible Loss.

Phoenix escaped from the fence. I am guessing because there were gunshots in the distance as there had been in the late afternoons recently. Men hunt around the place. Phoenix has always been terrified by gunshots and thunder. He would get frantic and desperate. One time during a storm he pushed the screen out of a window and climbed inside breaking everything in his path. He was inconsolable. So, I think he probably had one of those experiences to squeeze through a very slim opening of the fence which we had repaired a week before.

The neighbor shot him because Phoenix was chasing and killing his chickens in his frenzy. I will say no more about this man. What he did was despicable and he does not deserve any more of my attention than that.

I came home to a message on my answering machine from this person telling me Phoenix had escaped from the fence. I called him back frantically because Phoenix was not around. I am told: "Something terrible has happened..." I fall to my knees and scream, "Where's Phoenix? Where's Phoenix!" No answer. "Where is my dog!!!!" I scream into the phone completely frightened and already imagining the worst, the unspeakable, the incomprehensible. I am on the ground, my head to the floor when I am told what happened. I hang up and keen. This is what women do in the face of something like this. We wail. For a few moments, I keened. And I called my people, my immediate friends, and left hysterical messages on their answering machines.

Then, I HAD to find Phoenix. I was told his body was in front of the truck on the property between us. I ran to him and collapsed behind his body and held on.

This is what I did. Others have said they would have gone after the killer, called the cops, etc etc. All of me, the entirety of my Being knew only one thing....go to Phoenix and hang on. Don't let go, don't leave, hang on. And, I did all night and into half of the next day.

Melissa

A Beginning...

Dear Web,

I purchased a card today that says on the outside:  "When the threads that tether us to this world break~"....and on the inside: "Hearts do too".  The photo is of a spider's web that has been visibly broken. You see, I am going to send this card  to myself because there has been a terrible tear on the Web...not the internet...but the bigger Web that holds us as sentient beings together. Something very wrong happened two months ago.  My precious companion, Phoenix, was shot and killed by a neighbor.  My life and way of living will never be the same.  So, I begin this blog addressing the Web, not just the internet web...but the bigger Web of Life, the threads that hold me to Spirit and to Phoenix.  

In spite of being an unexperienced 'blogger,' I've decided to create this thing on the web that I've never done before as a way to stay connected and as a way to honor my dear Phoenix of 10 years. And as a way to track my passage through this labyrinth of grief.  May there be something woven here for you, dear Web, to help repair this tear.

A Beginning....

Melissa

PS...Thank you to Cherie Tolliver for her photo and Jenni Bentz (betzfamilycolumbus.blogspot.com) for her message in the card that was published by cardthartic.com.