Losses

A long time ago I lost my parrot to a predator that killed him in his outdoor cage. He stayed indoors with us when we were home, but outdoors during the day when we were at work. That bird loved being in his outdoor cage. It was big and roomy. He could look out over the canyon, hear the sounds of the neighborhood, be his own bird. He never saw a morning that he didn’t like. A feathered alarm clock, just wanted to get going, “c’mon, what are you waiting for, sun’s up, gotta get to it!” Lived like every day might be his last, and he wanted to enjoy every minute of it. Nothing better than being with the ones you love, eating the food out of their bowl when they aren’t looking. When he needed his own space, he let you know. That’s him in the picture, being present, living the moment.

It tore my heart out the evening I found what was left of him.

I remember how perfect everything was for the first time in my life. Even the weather. All the years of striving and yearning and angst and pain had melted away. I had my wife, my pet, my house, my health, a great job. There was this gorgeous day in late October. The sky was just the bluest sky, no clouds, sunny and warm, just awesome. Driving to work it struck me how insanely great my life had become. My heart was so full it felt like it would burst, and I thought there really must be a God and that He had truly blessed me. Peak happiness.

Three weeks later, my little buddy was gone. I found what was left of him outside his cage. Just a pile of feathers, and his beak. Murdered by some animal, probably a raccoon or a feral cat. He was just some thing’s dinner. I’ve never felt pain like that. Not that losing my mom or my dad wasn’t brutally hard. And I lost other pets growing up - dogs and gerbils, the usual traumas of childhood. They hurt too, but not like this.

Now, whenever things are going great, and I start to feel all warm and fuzzy inside, it touches that spot in my heart where he used to be, and I feel the happiness and the loss tied together. The sharpness of the pain dulls over time, but the hole never heals. Like Hermione’s bag with the Undetectable Extension Charm, all the losses seem to have found their way into that bottomless hole too.

Someone you once loved succumbs to ALS; another one dies of stomach cancer way too soon. The older I get, the more the losses pile up. My uncle told me “you have to be tough to be old”. He should know – he lost both of his children, one to cancer, and the other to alcoholism. He was a Methodist preacher, and a school administrator. I don’t talk to him nearly enough.

My life is good. My wife is my greatest source of happiness - I waited a long time to find her. She was worth the wait.

But I still miss all the ones I’ve lost.

I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all. – Eccl 9:11

I used to think God would have my back, that He would protect me, as long as I was listening to that still small voice, following where it leads. I’m not so sure about that anymore, and that's a scary thought. What if Nobody’s driving? That whole climate-change thing might be up to us to fix…?

I think it’s the losses that make us long for a life after this one, though I wouldn't count on an afterlife. Seems like it's better just to focus on the life we have, and keep moving. People get too distracted from reality, and are too easily manipulated, thinking about life after death.

But, to be honest, I really would like to see my little buddy again.