When I first arrived at the Bridge and had not learned of the arbitrary manner that pups cross over, would, after a friend passed under extraordinarily tragic circumstances, climb the highest mountain to where the Big Guy resides, (so he can see both sides of the river), to rail at him for the unfairness of the latest passing. The longer I have been here, the less I make that journey. But, when Monty passed, just weeks after his sister Heidi did did, the pain their poor mom was forced to endure enraged me. Unable to control my anger I put on two pairs of snowshoes and began to ascend the mountain to let my displeasure be aired.
Perhaps, my anger was fueled by the fact that Monty. Heidi, Meeka, and Missy-Diva were Yorkies, like me, and old online friends. But, I like to believe I would take up the cause of any mom who had her heart ripped apart just as it was being rebuilt.
I found the Big Guy sitting on a stage high above me in an old wooden chair writing like he was running out of time. Without lifting his head he asked me how he could help.
It always unnerves me how he knows I am there before I enter. I looked up at him and said I believed there had been a mistake because my friends Heidi and Monty had arrived at the Bridge just weeks apart.
“There are no mistakes,” he said, “only unfortunate circumstances.”
“Well, I have been up to my neck in unfortunate circumstances for weeks. I have written so many blogs for passed friends the obituary writers guild is asking for dues. Still, I haven’t complained. But taking Monty and Heidi so close together is cruel.”
“Every death is cruel,” the Big Guy said. “But, things cannot be changed, it has been written.”
“Well maybe if you didn’t write so much all these deaths would stop.”
He chuckled. “If I stop writing all life ends. In December of 2020 I got a cramp, paused, and when I looked down at the page COVID had happened and millions of people died. All of them were tragic too, but there was nothing I could do. It was written.
“Then the prayers came for the deliverance from the disease, so I created several vaccines, and people didn’t like my answer and rejected it. Sometimes I think I gave them too much free will. It makes them unwieldy.”
As usual, while well-spoken, his words were a worthless riddle. I was going to leave but paused to ask how the Yorkie’s mom was supposed to survive having her heart ripped from her chest again.
“I have given humans all the tools they need to survive including the passing of multiple loved ones, but two of those tools are sadness and tears, which need to be suffered through, so the heart and the will to go one becomes stronger. I think your friends knew that, if you had taken time to question them with the intensity you did me. Now, I must get back to my writing, so,” he coupled his hands over his mouth, and blew, sending me out of his cave, down the mountain, and back to Doggyspace.
There I found Monty, Heidi, Meeka Missy Diva, and their dad, who shares a birthday with Monty, and was the last dog their dad bought for their mom before he crossed, playing ball, but mostly rolling on the ground together, giving licks, hugs, and cuddles, as happy as they were when they were young and mortal.
I don’t know why, but seeing them together happy and carefree, made me realize the tool that the Big Guy gave everyone, which is time. It does heal, and it gives and takes, but it leads to the Bridge, where eternal happiness awaits.
I just wish for Monty’s mom’s sake the waiting for eternal happiness was not so painful, but needs to be