I can still hear the doorbell.
With one click came two notes and an abundance of tears. We sat as far away from the entryway as possible. My arms tightened around you at the vibration. You laid on my chest, in the river of fallen tears. I couldn’t stop yelling, “no.”
No, no, no, no, no.
I wouldn’t let you go. Not when they explained what would happen. Not after.
Suddenly, two arms became four and four became eight.
All around you, sweet boy.
When we popped our heads up, slightly dismantling the huddle, we saw you, in the middle, smiling. Your eyes and mouth stood open like you were both ready to stay with us forever and leave for the place where you could run again.
Just like you would in Southampton, chasing the cars along the length of the yard, often beating them. You’d stop at the corner of the fence just in time. The dirt your wheels kicked up piled higher by the year. If we ever lost you in the depths of the yard, we’d turn on the engine. Soon, you’d beat us to that corner.
You’ve now beaten us to heaven.
I can still hear the vet say, “Ready?”
We lied. We were never going to be ready.
That word triggered immediate tears from mom, dad, brother. Not from me though. This world has always been you and me. And I wanted you to know that ‘til your last blink. So, I smiled. I looked you in the eyes and smiled.
“It’s just you and me, sweet boy.”
And then you were gone.
And then I was wrecked.
You were one lap into mile 20, but as long as I’m still running, I’ll keep you alive.
We grew up together. We spent 19 years learning, growing and loving alongside one another. We would sit in the grass, lick peanut butter, swaddle ourselves when it was cold. You would stand on the middle console while we drove, until you got older and my lap became your favorite seat.
We never did the most luscious things, but you didn’t live for the price tag. All you needed to be happy was a full tank. You’d run alongside the car or pop your head out of the window. While you looked forward, I looked at you, in awe of your grace and simplicity. You taught me money doesn’t matter and loyalty is everything.
I can still hear the doorbell.
Dad let them in. Too shortly after, you were still with us, but you were gone. We got ready to leave. We took you with us.
We closed the door on our way out.
Though our hearts will never shut on you.
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