::sighs:: My Harley.
I always said that this day would come and it would be a hard one on me. I always said that I would think about it and just start to cry, no matter how hard I tried to hold it back. Man there is nothing more that I hate in this whole world is death and crying. I'm experiencing both at the moment. I suppose I should try to explain this ramble. Okay, my Mom came and woke me up today at about noon and said that my Aunt had called. She told me that my Aunt said that Harley her dog had to be put to sleep. She said that he was sick and he couldn't walk anymore. I know that it was becasue of old age but I can't seem to let go and accept the fact. I can't even stop crying. That dog was my favorite in the whole wide world. I mean ever since I was 7 they've had that dog. He never bit anyone let me play with him. Ever so loveable. In the past few months I had noticed him getting skinnier and withering away from old age and I tried to prepare myself for the inevitable and I just can seem to be strong. I just can't seem to stop crying. God how I love that doeg and I will miss him.
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When Death Comes
Mary Oliver
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When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measles-pox;
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world
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When Death Comes
Mary Oliver
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measles-pox;
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world