Monday, April 18, 2011

You should have been at the funeral

"I love you."
While we were digging the hole into which a new apple tree will be planted, worms began to emerge from the ground.  David tried to pick up one with a shovel.  The tip of the shovel landed on one worm which now became two worms.  Next he tried picking a worm up with a rock.  It hung precariously there until it slipped off onto the ground on one of the first walks David took with it. 

When we found the next worm and put it out on the tarp we practised singing "Inch Worm", that old duet made famous by Danny Kaye in the '50's.

The last worm was a beauty, long and fat, lots of concentric rings around it's body, with that deliciously burnished brown and red look.  As an added bonus, it was covered with fine grit.  David took that worm up to the porch with dreams of getting a transparent bottle for its new home, some earth, a few leaves, and some moisture to keep it alive.  We didn't get that task finished together but it had been thought out.

The inch worm did make it into a white yogurt container wtih some dirt, some leaves, and a cracked lid on top.

The next morning David took his mother to the front porch to visit his pet.  Bonnie tilted the dirt this way, that way, onto the lid, shifting and sifting, until she found a dry, thin, short rope-like shrivel.

When he saw it, his face dropped, shoulders fell, his eyes got wide, his body started to gentley bounce, his face turned red, and he began to cry.  This event marks the death of David's first pet, one who has was now gone to a better life.

Inconsoluable grief would be a good description of how David felt. He ran to his room and curled up in his closet.

Bonnie gathered together all of David's adults to see if any of them could help him in his sorrow.

I told him that 21 of my worms had also died last night.  They had crawled up onto the porch and were playing there in the water the day before.  But this morning, when I took the geraniums outside to harden them off, I saw that my worms, too, had lost their moisture.

I had been thinking about bringing David to the bottom deck to take a look at them, but then, as happens with 1000's of fleeting thoughts, that one left me and I didn't take him on that adventure.

Bonnie Wyora told the story of the death of her first pet -- a slug.  Grandpa Doral had talked to her about her loss and had suggested that she bury its corpse up in the woods.  So David and Bonnie planned to go to that same spot to inter his dead worm.

"Would you like to say a few words," she said to him. "Grandma Arta had suggested, 'I am glad I knew you'." David nodded and said, "I love you," looking down at the earth, fat tears spilling down his cheeks again.

He came back to the house, gathered up  the 21 worms from the lower deck and laid them to rest as well along side his pet.

Yes.  You all should have been at the funeral.

Arta

1 comment:

  1. My eyes are getting moist...and it was only a worm. Beautiful words David. R.I.P. Pet Worm

    ReplyDelete

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