They Gathered

I am unable to accurately paint the entire picture, but I can give you a rough sketch.  I am talking about when the departed gather around me.  “All the dead dears,” as Sylvia Plath put it.

But this is no macabre dance.  Not the grim relics found in Sylvia Plath’s poem.

Far from it.

The gathering occurred very early this morning as I floated within my hot tub under a starry sky.

Yesterday, that girl’s daughter had to euthanize Bear, one of her dogs.  A big muscular, golden dog.  When that girl and I visited, Bear was always first to greet us.

This morning, as I sat in the warm water, with wisps of steam weaving up against the stars around me, I thought of Bear.  And then I thought about Carmel, my sweet 20 pounds of housecat…now forever lost in his endless sleep under a nearby pine tree where I opened up the earth and put him inside.

Soon, the others gathered around me.  My late wife.  My grandmother.  My grandfather.  All the departed.

Sometimes, I miss each of them in sharp and overwhelming moments of grief.  At other times, my mind follows them on long thoughtful ventures back to what once was.

For a minute or so today, anguish overcame me.  “I miss all of you,” I said aloud.  “And I know why you are here.  You have come to gather up Bear and take him with you.”

So it was.

This morning, they gathered around me.  They gathered around Bear.  When they left, slowly softening and fading into the stars, Bear accompanied them.

-- Mitchell Hegman