gentleness

There is much to be said about softness in this oftentimes world of harshness. The way I keep reading in the media about how there are battles to be won, companies to be bought and problems to be overcome. At night I wake up grinding my teeth and wondering why my face has that determined steely set feel to it. Relaxxx I tell myself.
Then the dog died. Glen aka Manny Moo was getting onto 15. His eyesight had long left him seeing fuzzy shapes and his hearing was a lot to be left desired. He could walk but with a wobble and at times he would get caught walking into a bit of sand and would keel over or flop down. Thus it was when I found myself writing a letter to him in the evening, a few hours after I had found him lying so still in his kennel.

Dear Mennie (Dutch for Manny)

On all acounts you appeared to be a normal dog..
You didn't have a dashing appearance, if anything you were pretty scruffy looking.
Yet we loved you straight away and you came with the farm we were buying. How cool!
You rounded up the neighbours sheep when they went on an escapade, because you knew what to do. Naturally we hadn't a clue being farmlet newbies and you understood that perfectly.

Over the years your favorite activity was to find sunlight and then bask in it on the lawn. You loved me brushing your coat. It made you feel like a guy with a tophat being so nicely groomed. And if you could have a rummage in the grass and roll around in it well nothing could beat that. I will always remember you smiling, and it was quite something to behold.

We looked after you and you learned to trust humans again, be it always a bit careful. If anyone put their arm up high you would duck down by instinct. We told you that you didn't have to. We gave you cuddles. I talked to you until even you had enough of it after a while. As time went on you knew the routine by heart of bikkie twice a day instead of once. You never understood what a ball was for though, so we decided to give it to the goats to muck around with. (Not that they did.)

Mennie you were very special to us. You were gentle and you were kind. I will miss you yet I know it was simply time, and I'm glad you died in your own home instead of on the vets table in a clinic. You deserved to live at home for as long as you wanted to. I hope you will like the tree we will pick out for you. Please see us from time to time, but if you don't then that's prefectly fine. An awesome place like heaven can be very distracting I'm sure!

Talk to you later Mennie. Take care and have fun!
Lots of love,
Mirjam (and Nico of course but he's less girly about these sort of things as you know.)

Tending the side of the road

I was driving to work the other day and saw two guys standing on the side of the road cleaning and tidying the area around a white cross sign. In New Zealand it’s 'common' to find these white crosses next to the road where a loved one was killed. Sometimes these crosses are adorned with flowers, teddy bears and the like. These two men stood up and waved to the driver of a stock freight truck driving in front of me, passing them by.

It looked like a father and son tending the side of the road. Their car was parked with the boot open en the son was clearing weeds. Would it be his sister who’d died there? How often would they go here and tend the area marking her death? Is it important that they go together? After having written about men before being sometimes quite oblivious to remembering important dates I was touched by seeing these two working side by side, remembering and looking after the small area of grass next to this road of tar. That’s genuine love for you. Why would they do it otherwise?

It’s a funny world we live in and we forget how quickly we can literally dash out of it. Bang! Dead. The same applies to those we love who surround us. Sometimes we may take them for granted as we think they will always be there.

My friend Miranda had found it disturbing when I once told her I didn’t think I would live to be very old. The look on her face showed that she was disappointed she wouldn’t have the chance for us to sit together like grannies having a cup of tea discussing the state of affairs in the tea cozies industry. What do you mean you’ll be lucky to reach 70?! The truth is that I don’t care so much about growing old, more about the quality of my life. I’ll probably go with a bang and that’s fine with me. No long lingering dramas, just poof! Gone. Check out time.

That time has not come yet as obviously I sit here typing. For others the finality comes before they are good and ready. How can you be ‘ready’ anyway? That must be the point to let go of it. It is profoundly sad when it happens for the people surrounding the ones dying. I like the idea that even though we depart we are still there should we choose to. This way we may lose our physical bodies but not the essentials that make up who we are. It takes away the fear many of us have towards ‘the end’. What if there never is an ending to our being? Why would we worry about it? We could just happily continue on doing stuff and get used to it working slightly different. Anyway, that’s just a thought.

So, as we tend to the side of the road we remember and plant for the future. We shape our lives and that of others as we go. Nothing is forever and yet, it is.