Rocky visited us this morning. It seems a strange thing for me to say, even now, after everything. We think so poorly of death in our culture, we dread it, hate it, pretend we can live without it, forestall it forever, raging at it when it appears. Sometimes it is a beginning, not an end, a celebration, not a loss, an affirmation, not only a grieving. Maria and I were out in the bitter cold doing the morning chores and I felt something in the stall, Rocky’s stall. When I came into the farmhouse, Maria was there, and she was crying. Maria cries often, it is he way of speaking. I told he when we exchanged our wedding vows that I would love her a little more each time she cried, and I am wild about her by now.

I didn’t realize that by accepting her tears, I was giving her permission to feel, to open herself up. A lot of tears came out this morning, as she thought about Rocky. She felt he was visiting her, coming to tell her that we made him happy while we were all today, before we euthanized him a few months ago. During Rocky’s death, we were distracted by the anger and hurt people felt about him dying – we think so poorly of death, we will do almost anything to banish it from our consciousness. But time has passed now, and we are both aware that Rocky is not gone, his spirit hovers over the farmhouse, we are often aware of him standing in his stall, walking on his path, grazing in his favorite place in the meadow by the road. I saw Rocky before we came to the farm, and I saw him after, and he was healthy and happy and peace, almost to the end.

I loved Rocky, but he and Maria were connected at the soul. He loved her, loved being brushed and cared for by her, getting grains and carrots from her. All animals love Maria, are at ease with her gentle spirit, her emotions so close to the surface. I love her for this also. I would not, a few years ago, have imagined that I would see the spirits of dead animals, visit with them, yet I am as sure about this as anything material that I can put my hands on. Maria wrote about this on her blog this morning, she can speak for herself.

Rocky speaks to me here. He tells me that he is still here, this is still his place, he still walks his paths and drinks at his stream from time to time. I have learned that some animals are spirit animals. They transcend death, they live beyond it. Maria told me this morning that she sees now that she has failed to come to terms with the power of her love for this pony, and his love for her. For Rocky, death is a beginning. Her little pony still lives in his meadow, still thanks her for making him so happy.