Guardian Angel
For years after that day I asked God in my prayers why
he had to take him at that moment in time; That moment in my life where
everyday seemed like a struggle and I had no one to turn to; That moment in my
life where my family and close friends had been torn away and he was the only
one that brought me comfort. God never answered me. I guess that’s just a part
of life that I wasn’t yet familiar with. I didn’t understand that he would have
to die at some point, maybe he was just sick and it was taking him a long time
to get better.
In my young
brain I considered him a part of my family as much as my grandparents, uncles,
aunts and cousins. Yet after the move from Michigan, I wouldn’t get to see
these people everyday like I had for the past ten years of my life. I cried for
weeks once we arrived in Colorado. How could my parents have done this to me? I
loved my life in Michigan, growing up with my family and walking down the
street to school where I got to hang out with children I knew from birth. I was
comfortable and felt safe, which was quite the contrary to how I felt in this
new place, which I refused to call home. My parents didn’t understand the
constant grimace on my face. They pranced around our new home gleaming and
exclaiming what a wonderful house we had stumbled across, and how lucky we were
to have ended up in colorful Colorado. This show that they put on just made it
worse for me, as if they were rubbing it in my face like a snotty little boy
that just won his first football game. So I turned to Miles.
Miles was the only one that would understand. My sister
was too young to talk to at that point, my parents didn’t want to hear it, and
I knew absolutely no one else within thousands of miles around me. Plus, not a
soul could listen the way he would. Some days I would sit out in the barn and
let the tears roll down my face until I would cry away what felt like all the
water in my body, others I yelled and took out all the fury I had towards my
parents for bringing me to this place. All the while he would sit there with a
look of concern in his eyes. He had a way of knowing that I was upset and would
be my shadow for the rest of the day until I felt better. He brought me back to
sanity when I held him in my arms, him licking my face to try and make me feel
better. On school days I rushed home to see him waiting patiently on the front
porch to greet me and brighten my day after the stress of awkwardly trying to
make friends with sweaty, acne ridden middle school students. I whispered all
my secrets and feelings into his big floppy ears, but I didn’t need to tell him
anything. He always understood.
It was another mind-numbing day in school, sitting in
Mrs. Anderson’s uncomfortable plastic chairs when the loud speaker called my
name to come to the front office. I looked around with a smirk on my face,
pleased that I got to leave behind my fellow students for even a minute. The
old lady at the front desk eyed me with concern and handed me the phone,
mouthing that it was my mother. I barely remember the rest of the day, yet it
burned into my memory like a red hot iron.
There was no emotion in my body, I felt completely
empty inside. I denied the fact that my best friend, the one that had been
there for me throughout everything, was going to be gone just like that. Reality
hit me once we arrived at the veterinarian’s office. I walked in, my eyes
closed and as I opened them I couldn’t control the waterfall that was my tears.
He lay there on a blanket looking at me with the same comforting yellow eyes
that had always gotten me through the hard times. He wasn’t scared or shaking,
instead he lay there calm like he had already accepted what was about to
happen. At that moment I knew I had to be strong for him as he had been strong
for me. I knelt down by his side and held his tired head in my lap, stroking
his gray fur and whispering that it would be okay. He glanced up at me one last
time and then his head suddenly got heavy and his eyes closed. I couldn’t keep
up the tough act much longer; I held him close and cried for what seemed like
hours on that dismal medical room floor. My parents and the veterinarian left
the room, giving me my space to say my goodbyes. It took everything I had to get
up and leave, knowing I would never see him again. I bent over and kissed him
softly on the head, thanking him for being my best friend and bringing me so
much joy.
God never answered me. He never told me why he had to
take him away that specific year, when everything was hard already. But he did
tell me why he had brought him into my life in the first place. After the move
I had asked in my prayers for strength and understanding. Miles was exactly
that to me. He got me through one of the hardest times in my life and I will
always be grateful for that. He knew that his job was over and it was finally
his time. It took me a long time to get over the fact that he was gone and I
would never have him there for me again. I still think of him to this day and
wish I could hold him in my arms and make everything better. But he taught me
strength in a way that only a dog could do and his comforting yellow eyes will
always be in my memory.
No comments:
Post a Comment