La vie paisible qui dure
Le calme impartial
De l'imperturbable nature
La bete connait la peur
Mais aussitot, elle avance
Et sur son champ d'abondance
Broute une presence
Qui n'a pas le gout d'ailleurs
Daiky, named Soccos before on this blog, is gone.
She died, my poor puppy, in a miserable way, in sad sad circumstances.
And now all that is left of her is our memories of her, and the short time I got to share with her in her infancy.
My goodness, I lost pets along the years but I don't seem to get used to the pain. It just sublimates into something else.
And this time, the weight is almost unbearable given the additional people tangled in this mourning. My two friends, both never through such a loss, both in a different country, both in such radically different emotional spaces and with radically different emotional responses. And both in this with their first for-legged companion, the first one any of them truly had, the first one they have as a couple, the one companion for one half when the other half is in another country.
I feel the sorrow deeply for them, their sense of loss is unbearable, the darkness is mighty and I can't do anything. I just witness, I just listen, I say something when I have to. But I can't do anything.
In my mind, there is a voice that speaks of how life is, how there is never a good time to get acquainted with it, and how privileged they were up until really and not really spared or doing things the right way to avoid such hardships. That voice speaks of the utter normality of death, the normality of little tragedies in the life of the average human, the maturity one has to develop facing their own mortality and that of those they love, the necessity of such lessons, the importance of looking through the pain and not reacting to it. That voice speaks of Gom Jabbar and trials of authentic humanity and humanitarian crisis and the call for actions and the sublimation of pain into something healthy and hopeful and... and... and...
But this voice doesn't take the wheel. This voice doesn't come out in conversations.
On one hand, these friends are nowhere near ready to have such conversations, even less right now. We will not be moving away from blaming everything around us for Daiky's death anytime soon.
On the other hand, I am feeling small and in a dark pit within myself in these days and I can't for the life of me help myself, I don't know how I could be of assistance or what I can give right now. I can barely hold it together for my own self. I listen, I take in the pain, I try my best to say something, to check, to find some solace for them. But inside, I see how hollow I am and I wonder what I am giving possibly, unless it is equally hollow, with no substance, just like the food I have been having steadily these days.
And studies don't stop or get any easier, and work commitments won't give me a break for some random non time framed BS. So I just get a hold of myself as much as I can.
Daiky sweet sweet girl, my baby puppy, you were a wonderful companion for the few months we got to be together in Casablanca. You opened doors for two people within them they didn't know they had. You allowed me to witness so much beauty unravel thanks to you, to be with you in hard times, in great times. In times of growth and intelligence, in times of compassion and complicity, you were there with me sweet sweet girl. I can't stop giving water to the dead and I don't know how I can come out of this one, so please look kindly upon us and grant us strength and might over the pain, that we sublimate it into something more merciful of us.
Please Daiky.
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