The most magical nights of my life always consisted of you and Joni Mitchell. You loved her angelic voice, and I wonder whether heaven sounds like the Blue album. I remember each midnight sun. I’d paint while you snored. Perfection. She’s singing now too, about the little green, like the color when spring is born. To be honest, losing you in the spring is the cruelest thing nature could have done. How can anything be born now that you’re gone?
Please come back.
Death is so devoid of… life? You breathe and then you don’t. Life moves on while I feel my lungs pouring onto the concrete pathway. I want to grieve, but the earth is spinning. They don’t understand.
It always felt weird to call you a dog; you were my entire life. All of me was forever leaning towards you, and now I am wavering without direction.
I thought that the moment you leave, heaven’s bells would ring so loud, they’d break and fall. Shiny pieces of brass would be found in bird nests and dreary backyards. Rivers would dry, and silver-scaled fish would cry into the lifeless night. Both local and migratory birds would dart to the heights to be near you. And I would envy their wings.
For eighteen years, I feared this. I knew that one day there would be a life without you, but I was naive and hoped that maybe it wouldn’t truly happen. Now that it has, I can admit this is worse than I ever thought possible. There is absolutely no light in this realm.
Please come back.
You were given into my arms eighteen years ago when I was ten and had Pippi Longstocking teeth. You were wrapped in an ugly woolen sweater and immediately felt at peace while covering my small face with your tiny kisses. Oh my god, how I immediately loved you. Your pear-shaped head, triangle ears, and midnight black, velvet fur. You were by my side all these years, until I carried you to your end. Now you are dust and fit in my palm, and I am stuck in that waiting room repeating how I love you, I love you, I love you. How god must be real since you are heavenly.
Please. Please come back.
I never really liked people, but you were perfect, everything I ever asked for. I stayed home a lot; my agoraphobia made your life a luxury. I skipped parties, trips, and events to stay home with you, I spent my brave years taking you to your favorite places: the beach with the ducks, the little forest path with blackbirds. You slept in satin sheets, next to me, my forever small spoon. You healed all my mosquito bites with your kisses, mended my broken heart more than once, and were present in every joyous moment. I placed the sofa against the window so you’d see the deer and squirrels in the front yard. Every place is a mere flicker of you now.
Please come back. In any shape or form. I don’t mind if you’re a tiny ghost passing my bed as I fall asleep. Or a shadow, a scent, a morning light. I don’t mind if you invite me to your new sacred land, where Joni sings and the sky is a portrait of love. Just come back. Be a thought, be an ache, be a never-ending memory bearing me back to the past. Just be here. Be nearby.
You’ve seen the clouds from both sides now. I hope the sunsets are beautiful up there. I hope you see me in the cloud illusions since I still see you everywhere. And I have a feeling it’ll never end.
<3 Jonna