A challenge between myself and http://widerworld-inspired.blogspot.co.uk to each write 1000 words on overcoming loss.
Please read her entry here, and also the story of how this came about. Feedback on both is always appreciated.
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We ran over a rabbit one day. I don't know how to make it sound any better. Nor am I sure that I want to, in any case. It was an accident, of course. The poor creature ran in front of the car, and the driver had no time to stop, or change course. In the rear view mirror I saw it twitching and jerking in pain.
There was little traffic, and we were on a side road anyway, so it was easy to change course and come back. We didn't actually know what we were going to do when we got there, but we couldn't just leave it there. Maybe we could call an emergency helpline, if such existed for animals, or take it to a vet ourself, or find something else to do. Leaving it there was unacceptable, and such thoughts didn't cross our minds at all.
The choices didn't matter as much as we thought they did. It had died in between the few minutes that it took to return to the spot. The only thing to do was to bury the creature somewhere so that other cars wouldn't just run it over heedlessly. Of course, this task fell to me.
The way the poor thing looked so helpless before I picked it up, the softness of its fur as I gingerly, gently, tried to lift it up, the few splotches of blood that I saw dotted at random places, the way I could feel a few bones through the fur when I lifted it, the lifelessness of the eyes that gazed back at me, contrasting with how the body was still warm in some places, these all remain with me. They haunt me.
I lifted it to a patch of earth that ran parallel to the road. I dug the grave with my own hands, and buried it. It wasn't the best burial. It was the first time I had actually buried anything by my own effort. I wasn't sure whether a prayer of some sort should be uttered or not, but I said some under my breath anyway.
Our journey, which had been lively before, was inverted afterwards. A sombre mood prevailed, and whatever conversation we could attempt to make was halting and stuttered. In the end, we gave up, and each sought the solace of our own thoughts instead.
Death and life happen all the time, but seeing it up close tends to have a focusing effect on the mind, as all else fades away. I would like to say that I kept my mental composure afterwards, but saying so would be wrong. The opposite. The best I can say is that I tangentially flitted between thoughts related to each other, eventually coming full circle to my original thoughts again and again. And again.
I wondered why I felt so bad at the death of some creature I barely knew, that had been in my life for maybe a quarter of an hour, if that. And then wondered why I was thinking such thoughts - maybe I was losing my humanity in thinking so. It would be ironic indeed if that were to be the case, and it takes the death of an animal to illustrate that to me.
I wondered at the timing of the incident. It all happened in a matter of seconds, and a matter of seconds could have prevented it as well.
Had the rabbit ran even 5 seconds earlier, or 5 seconds later, it would have made it to the other side of the road, and still be alive. Maybe it would have died soon after at the hands [sic] of a predator, but thats by the by. Had we travelled a fraction slower at any point of the journey, the incident would, again, not have happened.
The odds of running over an animal are very slim. Not impossible, but very improbable. It maybe wasn't meant to happen, but I tried to seek comfort in thinking that it might have. Maybe I was supposed to derive some meaning, some insight, some lesson from the incident.
I thought again, over how I was able to bury the rabbit. I have trouble with icky stuff. It's how I've always been. And yet, it didn't matter at the time. I did what needed to be done. Maybe all the things I fear doing are just self-limiting beliefs, and if I needed a good enough reason, the fears would fade away? Maybe I got lucky this time, because what I had to do was obvious and was right in front of me… but would I have that luxury in other areas of life, as black and white become instead a myriad of shades of grey?
I reflected on my external composure, at the time, which masked internal chaos. Would I have been so composed had I been burying my own parents, or my sibling, or a close friend? I honestly didn't know the answer, though I knew very much what I wanted the answer to be, or what the answer should be.
Finally, I thought about the fragility of life on this earth, in which so many variables can combine in an unbelievable amount of ways to lead to a mind boggling number of potential outcomes. Some of which lead to death. Actually, all lead to death, just some paths sooner than others.
Life is precious, life is fragile, life is unexpected. And death is always round the corner. We know this, but we always need to be told again. Such is life, and humans are so.
When finally alone that day, I shed a few tears for an animal I had never known, and determined to act upon my reflections. Within a few weeks, the whole incident was forgotten, until I randomly recalled it and started to write this.
Such also is life, and humans also are so.
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Half fiction, half fact. But which is which?
6 years ago
