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I sit alone in silence pondering how to process the latest lost. Last night was anything but peaceful, but it was beautiful. We had an amazing lighting storm. I couldn't sleep so I found myself watching the light show. I wanted it to end. I wanted to sleep. I wanted so many things in that moment. Most of all, I wanted not to hurt and I wanted my husband not to hurt. It seems like a futile desire in the world we live. We get to hurt. It is part of the package we call life.
This morning I went out to the rain barrels. I had forgot to put the downspouts down last night. I have six rain barrels in operation in my yard. Three big black barrels catch water from the eavestroughs (Canadian for rain gutters) and three smaller barrels I use as over flow. The three smaller barrels were almost empty with some water in the bottom. I went to put the downspouts down and I jumped back in shock. In one of the barrels was a dead drowned squirrel. I looked again and the only word coming into my head was "Squishy".
In my previous post about Squishy, we eventually came to conclude that it wasn't our beloved squirrel that met its demise on the road that day. But this morning, I am torn. I don't know again if that squirrel is the same critter that took peanuts from my hand on a few occasions. But every fibre of my being accepted it. Squishy often travelled between the garage, the garden shed and the neighbour's fence. But this morning it was storming, and maybe the travelling wasn't as easy for him. Maybe, like me, he too was scared. How do I know? I can only imagine.
My first thought went to my husband. How do I tell him? We already went through the pain once. Squishy has become a very precious part of our life. We leave peanuts on our deck to feed him and enjoy his antics as he collects his harvest. He often would sit on the deck and just eat. It was quite the show. How do I tell him? Do I wait, hoping that our Squishy returns? I put peanuts on the deck, hoping that I am wrong in my assumptions once again. Right now... I don't know. I just don't have the heart to bring this sadness to my husband right now. Tomorrow we are going to spend the day with family, I don't want him to take this pain with him.
I did what I did with the other squirrel and rabbit. I laid this "Squishy" to rest by the other "Squishy" in my Saskatoon patch. I put some peanuts in the hole. They are roasted, so they won't grow, but I thought of the ancient Egyptian tradition of burying food with the departed so they would have something to eat on their journey to the afterlife. It seems like a strange custom, but that is what came to mind... and those peanuts are our connection to Squishy. I also cut flowers and put them in the hole and on top of the dirt.
I remembered that I had marked the death of the last squirrel on the door of my garden shed. I added today's date underneath it with a heart. (see above picture) I looked at the cross that I had marked for the first "Squishy" and reminded myself that it meant something two years ago, but this year... not so much. So I put a heart instead.
Who is Squishy? It seems that over the years we have called every squirrel Squishy. Maybe it makes the pain of losing one of them a little easier. We never lose Squishy, because there is always another one coming around later. But it doesn't take the pain away. It hurts to see what I saw this morning. I can't get used to it, but maybe I'm not supposed to get use to it. Maybe death is my constant reminder that today matters. But our Squishy... ate peanuts from our hand, and wasn't scared of us. I think we will know if it was our Squishy We knew last time that it wasn't.
My husband just came in to the office and was wondering what I was doing. He knows I'm sad, but won't ask why. He knows I can handle the sadness, but he's not as good at it. If you are into the Enneagram, it is the difference between a 4 and a 7. We have had to navigate a lot of sadness in the last thirteen years of our life together. I wish I could spare him from most of it. I can't. I wonder if I have to tell him about this too. I just think it's bad timing and we can't do much about it other than be sad. Tomorrow is our annual trip to see his family, so sadness seems an intrusion. We love Squishy, and if this was him, we will miss him. But it won't be long... we will see another "Squishy" come around. That is how nature works. That is how nature heals.
Disclaimer: My husband and I have assumed in our conversation, that Squishy is a he. And I have made that assumption in my blog posts on Squishy. We really don't know. In the German language, the pronoun used for squirrel is gender neutral "Das Eichhörnchen". Sadly, we don't have that in English.
"Given a choice between grief and nothing, I'd choose grief." — William Faulkner
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