Do Angels Cry For Simon?
When Simon had his stroke,
and toppled over to the ground,
and lay dying.
Lulu came over to him, and kicked him on one side of the head,
and then, soon after, Fanny kicked him in the other,
then they went off to look for grass, and barely looked back.
Animals know how to deal with life and death,
they are close to it all of the time,
they do not want dying animals anywhere near them,
scary things come running.
Death is like that, in our very real world.
I want to tell you, dear friends,
that I am not heartbroken over Simon's death,
my heart does not ache over him,
there is no weeping today
at Bedlam Farm, I shed my tears Saturday morning.
I am not a tough guy, anything but,
I am a life guy. Life and love goes on,
he was my donkey, and was dear to me,
we swim along behind life's stream,
meeting donkeys and dogs,
sharing their stories,
drinking from the cup.
There are so many tragedies in the world,
they rain over and on us some days,
the death of a donkey, no matter how sweet,
is not one of them.
I am responsible for grief in so many ways,
I wrote the stories about him, I told his story,
so I have to be honest, I am honor bound to try
and be authentic, to find perspective, to share mine,
No one need listen.
I do not ever tell other people how
to grieve, or how long to cry,
or judge how broken their own hearts ought to be,
grief is a personal thing, we all do it our own way,
only God can say.
But grieving for Simon is not for me, not my path.
Simon was a joy,
from the moment I saw him,
to the morning he decided to leave,
and move on to another life.
His life is not a sadness for me,
not a cause for sorrow and lament,
or regret, I will not suffer over him,
my heart is full of joy and promise,
heartache is not what he was about for me.
Simon talked to me all the time,
and I to him.
At his last, he whispered to me of gratitude
and affection, he did not have one bad day
in his life with us, every day was filled with fresh hay and water,
carrots and apples, hugs and kisses, help and comfort,
brushing and rubs,
Lulu and Fanny,
visitors with good wishes, smelling of love.
What more could a donkey want,
what more could human beings do?
Do not mourn for me, he said, shaking his head,
there is nothing to be sad about,
move on, he said so softly, move on,
and then he was gone.
And how wise he was,
and how good,
and I thanked him,
this is me,
this is who I am,
I am grateful for your time here,
I told him, as his spirit rose,
death does not grieve.
Frieda is fading, Lenore
is growing older, sick sheep suddenly die,
barn cats disappear, my knees hurt in the morning,
death lives in our lives,
on my farm, in my pasture, I will be on good terms with it,
or it will find my heart and drive a stake right through it.
This is my life, so I will not waste one day of it,
I will get on with it,
make a joyful noise to the world,
sing my praise to the angels,
they will not weep for me,
there is too much death in the world,
neither should you. The angels will
sound their trumpets for me, he said,
and the glorious and
bountiful days of your life begin right now,
the second I am gone.
And they did.