However, I was thinking about our two very special pups that are buried at the back of our barn and were placed there by our own hands. We have another special pup buried much closer to the road (the site of his demise) and he was buried not by our own hands (thank you daddy!), but that is a story for another blog, maybe one with the theme "Lessons I learned as a not quite grown up adult".
So anyway, I was thinking about the dogs we had lost. Both had tragic and untimely deaths. Both were found by us, in our yard. Both were DOA, with no need for a trip to the vet. So, if this has never happened to you, I guess I need to talk about the emotions that hit you at this time. First you are shocked, but I will say that in both cases there was no doubt that death had occurred. One look was proof of it, which is strange. I did not think either was sleeping or hurt. It was definitely death. And after about 1-2 minutes of pure shock and sorrow, it is like your body turns to find tools. A wheelbarrow, a shovel, and (here is where this becomes relevent to my quilting blog) a blanket or quilt. Yes, that is one of the necessary tools. You need it to cover the body, contain the body, lift the body, and cradle the body.
And this is where I hope this post leaves the morbid and enters the philosophical. You see, we use sheets for our dogs to lay on, so I could have easily grabbed an old sheet to do this job. or even a tarp or garbage bag. And I am sure some would have. But it was my impulse to grab blankets or quilts that meant something. With our first dog, I grabbed a white blanket that was embroidered with hearts and had been a wedding present to us years before. Our dog had sort of adopted this blanket already, I will grant. She would lay on in often, but none the less is was a special blanket with special memories to it.
For our more recent loss, it was the same impulse. And again I went to a quilt special to that dog. I had made a simple quilt out of a large remnant from a quilt I had made for my mom. It was a cozy gray cotten with flowers on it. The other side was a cheap peice I had gotten at Walmart because I liked the pattern. I outlined that in a purple fabric that may have been a dress I cut up to salvage the fabric. Or it may have just been another bargain buy, I don't remember. I had been using this blanket to protect our couch from doggy nails, but somehow our dog sort of adopted it. But my husband shared it with him, as he liked it as well. So when I went to reach for this tool of burial, I reached for that purple quilt.
So now the dogs lay wrapped for burial in the special fabrics. I am a realistic about animals and death. I know that neither dog recieves any comfort now from those blankets. There is no magic power in them. But I do recieve comfort from knowing that they are there. Is that silly? After each died, I immediately knew that there was no more I could do for them. THey were out of reach. But I could feel better knowing that I demonstrated their value to me by burying something else of value with them. Call it a memorial or a marker, I don't know. But just as I discussed in the last post, the emotions and the fabrics become tied. They are all wrapped up in such interesting ways. Maybe I was simply burying my memories as well. I don't know.
Why does this kind of thing make us feel better? I would really like to know. I know God is teaching me about grief in all of this. How much more potent are these thoughts when it is a family member, spouse, or friend that dies. How much more difficult to handle. What we do for the dead, we most certainly are really doing for ourselves. But it should make us think about what we are doing for the living.
Well, goodbye pups, and since I know that you will never read the internet, this goodbye is for me, too. But it is time for you to leave my blogs. But you will never leave the fabric of my life. You are already woven in.
