I watch the Chilean miner rescue play out in real time. I’m thinking of all the people worldwide who are buoyed by the happy ending, living vicariously through the Chilean miners. My mind veers off into a fantasy and I think that if the rescuers save these miners we can go back and save our own beloved Errol. I think…
They will save the miners.
The doctors will save Errol.
We will be happy.
Everyone will be happy.
But as I watch the rescue capsule emerge from the Chilean mine with the first saved miner, the crowd erupting into cheers, his family shedding tears of joy, I am all alone, sorrowfully gazing into the screen, looking for Errol.
Our kitten goes missing and we look desperately for her, the loss of Errol amplifying our rescue efforts. Two days later I find our shell-shocked cat trapped behind a basement wall, pry her out, and bring her upstairs to the light and heat of the house. But I am distraught. It was so easy. Why does the cat get to survive and not Errol? Why couldn’t we save Errol too?
One morning, out at breakfast with Owen, a smiling woman ambles over to our table. “Errol got me through the ICU.” She quavers, looking up at Owen, her eyes glistening, “I kept thinking about that sweet little boy and he helped me make it.” All this time I thought we were the ones to save Errol, but it was Errol who was guiding us out of the darkness with his joyous smile and his ringing laughter.
3 comments:
thank you for continuing to share your love for Errol. Your words, thoughts and deeds will forever affect us in the most human of ways and remind us that love truly knows no boundaries. peace and love.
You are on your way south; we are heading west but will be thinking of you guys this week and this difficult anniversary.
I think of you and what you are experiencing each day and appreciate your sharing your thoughts and feelings with us. I have especially been thinking of you this week. Peace.
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