I came across this old journal entry today and felt the need to share it.
Take what you will...
March
8, 2010
Today as I drove home from picking my precious Claire
up from Daycare, I saw, for the first time, an animal dying. A small mallard duck like the kind that swim
in our idyllic little pond at our condo, was gravely injured and trying with
all its might to cross a busy road to get to safety on the grass on the other
side. With every movement he made trying to traverse bustling Trabuco Street,
feathers fell out of him in a panic and with defeat. It was apparent that one
or more of his limbs were no longer functioning and his head was down toward
the ground the entire time. He could not look up and see what was coming toward
him, only where he was going if he continued to go down.
What was less upsetting and more touching was the
companion duck that began to cross the street in this duck’s trail. It was
trying to evade traffic on the busy road to save its companion, all the while
not being hit by cars.
I physically stopped my bright red Barbie car in the
middle of this road, not caring what traffic violations would occur or how I
might inconvenience other people. I stopped. I stopped. I stopped.
I stopped because I was sad.
I stopped because I had never seen someone so helpless
die in front of my eyes.
I stopped because I didn’t want to be responsible for
killing it.
I stopped because I was contemplating if it was my
duty to kill it.
As I watched the heart-and-wing-broken pair attempt to
cross to safety, I delicately drove around the situation and continued toward
home with my precious baby girl in the back seat. I was upset and I don’t want
to shield her from that, but I don’t want her to have to see animals that are
hurting yet. It is too soon; yet, another reason I decided I should not kill
the duck with the power of my car in a merciful attempt to set him free.
We drove farther down the road and I delicately
watched the frenetic scene in my rearview mirrror come to a stop…. A final
stop. The stop that happens on its own terms, regardless of location, time of
day, or audience. This small, defenseless little bird laid its broken neck on
the asphalt and that’s where it would leave its body while it ventured to where
I am so hopeful there is more.
I don’t know what type of connection animals truly
have, but I give them the benefit of the doubt that they are more connected
than we believe. I feel bad for his friend, or mate, or brother, that tried to
help save him but couldn’t. I hope that because he’s an animal he doesn’t have
a sense of object constancy and he’ll simply reproduce that aspect of his life and
fly away and move on.
But all I know, is that I grieved that anonymous, ill-placed
wild bird today, and my daughter and I gave it pause en route to our family
home where we tell each other we love each other, we learn to do new tricks, we
build each other’s self-esteem, we tell each other that we are pretty and kind
and that we will do anything for each other.
We will love each other forever. No matter what.
Claire is invaluable to me - she is beautiful, and she
is real. I am proud that I have been able to accept her as real and sincerely
allow myself to embrace it and enjoy it, instead of stepping out of it like the
3rd person (reference - Elliott’s death…)
I am grateful and must learn to embrace the feeling of
safety like a warm blanket when I am freezing with worry.
