Wednesday, May 07, 2014
In the past I have tried to minimize my involvement with death by treating the resulting body as a piece of trash. This time was very different. I decided to bury Henny. I considered putting her in a box, which turned out to be too small, and then a plastic bag. By the time I had finished tearfully digging the hole outside the chicken pen, though, I had decided to bury her as I myself would like to be buried. I placed her carefully in the hole, in the fetal position, and covered her with dirt. Then I carried rocks from my garden to cover the grave, both to mark it and to protect it from animals. I was uncharacteristically comforted by the act of dealing with her body myself.
This makes me wonder if I might consider bringing Lytton's ashes home at some point in the near future. So far the idea of seeing him reduced to a pile of ashes has brought me to tears. Even now, as I think of it, I feel them filling my eyes, tensing my throat painfully. So I am obviously not ready yet, but I feel I have taken a big step.
So long Henny. Good girl.