Some say the Spirit vanishes when we die, the body means nothing. But, each of us have different ideas about death, dying & "the body" that represented "US" in life.
After much contemplation, the body, was in fact, everything.
It housed our Spirit, and nourished every cell, muscle, organ and strand of hair, so that we "could" live on Earth.
Sunday's body, his face, his hair, his liquid brown eyes was the first image I fell in love with.
The furry body I clutched in my arms.
The heart that beat with mine.
The breath his lungs pumped minutes before my own exhaled.
The mind that pondered my alien human words.
The paws I washed hundreds of times.
The nails I clipped to a fine point.
The devoted eyes I wiped clean.
The pink ears I plucked of hair so to hear my cooing better.
The K9 teeth I scraped, brushed, till ivory white.
His scent..it came from the body I was in love with, cherished, dedicatingly, painstakingly healed, groomed, nurtured, adored.
His ashes are a tribute to that.
Honoring the remnants of the body he wore to kiss me, lick, eat, walk, jump, run & play through life.
All of it, was reduced to a sacred mound of dust.
His dust.
His Life. Sunday Jean.
---R. B. STUART XOXOX
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