Thursday, July 13, 2006

Death of a Miracle

This morning I realized that I had not told you anything about what happened to Miracle, so that's what this post is about. It's a sad story.

Monday I was in a rush to meet EM and Sue. I had woke up that morning at 3:00 AM with an idea for all three of us, and I couldn't wait to share it with them. I said my goodbyes to Miracle and Angel, and spent the day with EM and Sue talking about my idea (which I will share later). Sue was grieving for her cat, Sam, because she would be put to sleep the next morning. Sam was her best friend of 15 years. EM and I did all we could to comfort Sue and help watch over Sam to keep this beautiful cat as comfortable as possible on her final night.

I came home later that evening and immediately looked for my birds. I don't cage them, which is probably the stupidest thing on earth, but I can't STAND to see my birds caged. This stems from all the years I spent in psychiatric hospitals, often locked in a tiny room called "seclusion" for being "bad." Once I spent a week in one of those rooms, and that was enough for me to think about how birds must feel in a cage. I am probably wrong about how they feel, but I just know I can't stand to cage my birds! So I have trained Angel over the last ten years to keep herself safe when I am gone. Angel had been "mentoring" Miracle (who never spent more than an hour in a cage -- and that was to take him outside), and Miracle was following Angel everywhere, mimicking everything Angel did.

I came home and saw Angel right away. But Miracle was missing. I looked and looked and could not stop looking. I was in a panic. After an hour or so, I realized the only place I hadn't looked was behind the refrigerator. The adrenaline rushing through me allowed me to pull the refrigerator away from the wall with amazing strength. That's when I saw Miracle. I thought he was okay at first and just waiting for me to find him. I was SO HAPPY he was okay! But when I picked him up, he was limp and barely able to move.

I laid him on my bedside table and watched over him all night. Every time he moved, I would wake up from my twilight sleep and tell him I loved him more than anything in the world. I honestly thought that if he made it through the night, he would recover. I also knew of the possibility he would not make it. He was so tiny.

That was a long night for both me and Sue and EM and Miracle and Sam. I didn't call EM or Sue that night, and I hadn't planned on calling them the next day. I knew that EM and Sue were putting Sam to sleep, and I didn't want to take away from Sue's experience.

In the morning, I moved Miracle to a towel at the bottom of his cage. I checked on him every few minutes. I could tell that, even though he made it through the night, he was still dying. That's when I told him to please go. I would be okay. Angel would be okay. His suffering was too horrible to allow to continue. The phone rang right at that point. It was Sue. She immediately knew something was wrong, and I cried for the first time since it all began. I don't remember what I said except, "Miracle is dying!"

The next thing I knew, both EM and Sue were on their way over. I went to check on Miracle again, and he had just died. His little body was still warm but Miracle was gone. The phone rang again right at that point. It was Sue telling me they were on their way upstairs. It took them maybe 5 minutes to get here from EM's, and Miracle had died during that time.

The three of us cried together for what seemed like hours. It probaby was. I'd lost all sense of time by then.

We wrapped Miracle's body in his towel, and we buried him in EM's yard. The hardest part was carrying him in the towel to his grave. I am still crying over that one. He was just a baby, for godsake! He was supposed to have a good, long life! HE WAS MY BABY!!! HE WAS MY BABY!!!

I went home to be with Angel for a while, and then the three of us got together later that afternoon to shoot video at a Home Depot parking lot, of all places. I'll be posting that video within the next few days. It was an amazing day, one that words really can't describe in a blog or anywhere else. The implications of that day, the day when our beloved pets died within a couple hours of each other, the day we all grieved together, are beyond description. Something very tragic and beautiful happened for all of us. There was a shift within each of us. We all felt it. We also have a new friendship we'd never had before with each other. Nothing is more precious or sacred. I need to quit writing. There are no more words beyond what I have written.

Thank you, readers, for finding love in your heart for a baby white dove named Miracle. He will be dearly missed.


Marcela said...

Hey Jayme, I am really sorry for Miracle. There is a film that I think you might love: "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill." There is a special relationship between the guy and the birds that only people like you can understand.

I think you might also like to meet a dear friend of mine. I never met her personally, I know her from flickr. Maybe you would enjoy meeting her and her animal family:

Big hug to you!

Bev Sykes said...

Oh, Jayme. I'm so sorry for your loss of Miracle. I lost a puppy a couple of weeks ago and I could feel your pain as I read how you struggled to save him, and then how you told him he could go (I did that too). It's so hard losing these little guys. The best part is that there is a lot of love for a new puppy or a new bird, when the time is right and when there is another one who needs your big heart.


Jayme said...

Bev, believe it or not, I thought of you and the puppy a lot while I was dealing with Miracle dying. I wished I could have recorded some of it to make it more real to others. Your post about the puppy was by far the most poignant I've seen yet (on any video) and it made me cry. Thank you for your courage and whatever else it took for you to make the video. I can only imagine. I was really pulling for that little puppy. I am so sorry for your loss. Because of your video, it was my loss too, if that makes sense.

Peace, love, dove...


Donna said...

All the tears fogging up my glasses are for you and Miracle, Jayme. I'm so very sorry. I know how deeply it hurts. ~Love, Donna