Farewell to my beautiful Mysty-Blue

When death comes, there is nothing we can do about it. We can’t stop it, alter it, delay it or prevent it. When it comes, it is time regardless of whether we are ready or not. We can cry. We can ask why. We can think it unfair. That it is evil and mean. We can become bitter and stop living but if we do then we are inviting death in for ourselves. Because when we stop living, all that is left is for us to die.

Death is humbling and can bring us to our knees. Sending even our greatest hopes and dreams to a place of darkness and fear.

I write this from a place of sadness. A place of regret and guilt. A place of not understanding the why. We adopted our beautiful Mysty-Blue, our beloved rabbit from the SPCA on May 26, 2013 for our daughter’s 10^th birthday and she was so happy to have Mysty. So happy when I took her to the SPCA under the guise of seeing this new rabbit they had in as she had been begging us to get her a rabbit. Not letting her know I had been there during my lunch break and had already adopted the rabbit. I hadn’t intended to adopt her. All I had intended was to go to see her but once I got there and held her in my arms and she looked me in the eye, my heart melted and there was no way I could leave her there. I had to give her a home. So I walked out with adoption papers in my hand.

And when I picked our daughter up from school I took her to see if the two bonded. She held the little rabbit in her arms and when I told her the rabbit was hers all she could say was thank you Mommy, thank you so much. Her eyes wet with tears.

We brought our rabbit home. Trying to think of a name for her.  Our daughter sitting on the porch with her on a grey and misty day until the name came to her. Mysty- Blue because she was grey and matched the grey day.  The name stuck as it suited our beautiful girl with eyes painted like she had on permanent eye liner and mascara. Laughing at her long ears that seemed bigger than her.

Only to discover as the weeks went by that her ears were big because she was to more than double in size.  Growing too large for the hutch we bought her. My husband converted our daughter’s old play house into Mysty’s house – a little pink and white Bermuda cottage of her own, complete with ramps and stairs so she could sit and look out of her windows. To see the outdoors when she had to be confined to her house while we were out. So she could stretch out and hop freely around. So she could have room to be a rabbit.

Every morning I would go out to feed Mysty and to clean out her cage. And every morning when I unlatched the gate on our porch, she would hear me and jump up on her ledge filling her window to let me know she knew I was coming. And every morning when I opened her door, she would reach her beautiful face outside to kiss me on the lips. We would share that special moment together. Drinking each other in.  Then I would take her out of the house and hold her in my arms and snuggle my face into her soft and beautiful fur. She would wiggle herself until she felt safe in my arms and I would walk across the yard with her snuggled in my arms and let her jump onto the porch where she would have her morning treats while I cleaned her cage.

Our morning ritual. Sacred and special. A memory now. Reality no more.

On Thursday because of the rain I did not go out to feed her or snuggle with her. My husband did instead. The entire day I felt off. Like something was wrong. I felt despondent. Ill. But could not put my finger on the why. Distracted. Lacking in inspiration. I came home feeling so tired like all of the life had been sucked out of me. So I told my husband I was going to bed. That I needed to rest.  I went to bed under the sound of the pounding rain. Closing my eyes. Shutting out the grim feeling of the day.

Yesterday morning I opened the gate and there was no Mysty in the window. As I walked over to her house, no Mysty jumped up into the window.  I called her name. No response. No Mysty in the window. My heart raced. My hands shook. My mouth dry. I looked in the window and saw her lying on the ground. Her face away from the window. I called her name. No movement. No response.

I opened the door and called her name. Knowing there would be no response because I could feel she was no longer there. That her spirit had gone though her body remained. Still I did not want to believe what I knew to be true. So I kept calling her name hoping for a miracle.

I dropped everything and ran across the wet grass. Tears streaming down my face. I frantically telephoned my husband needing to speak to him before I spoke to the children. But got his voice mail. I needed confirmation that my Mysty was dead. So I rushed into the children’s room telling them I thought Mysty had died. Asking my son to come with me to check. My daughter crying and screaming. Trying to come out of the house half dressed. I told her to get dressed as I ran with my son to Mysty’s house.

We opened the door and she had not moved. Still in the position she was when I left. He said, “She’s dead mommy.”

My daughter running across the grass in her school socks and no shoes hearing my son tell me the news and she cried harder. I could not comprehend what was happening so I screamed at her to go and put on shoes.

They went back into the house and I called my husband again. This time I got him and I broke down as soon as I heard his voice, my touchstone in the midst of the storm, and told him Mysty had died. The sobbing uncontrollable. The dam finally broken. I could not stop the pain I felt. The loss of my morning kiss, my morning snuggle. My baby girl Mysty-Blue.

I told him he needed to come to get her out before the flies came. I could not touch her. Not when death had taken her from me. Had called her home.

I had to leave the house with her still in her house all alone. Riddled with guilt for not being with her the day before. For not being there when she died. Hoping she did not suffer. Hoping she knew she was loved.

We got to the car and there on the window was a white rose my husband had picked from our garden and placed on the windshield with a note of love. A note he had left before he knew our rabbit was gone. A note and a rose as if he knew before he left I would need his love.

When death comes there is no stopping it. No preventing it. It comes when it is time. I just hope our Mysty is free now. Free to hop all over rabbit heaven whatever that may be and know she was truly loved.

Farewell to our beautiful Mysty-Blue. We will miss you but are grateful for the eight months we had you in our lives. Hop bunny. Hop freely across the grass with love and light and grace. You are free now. No more confinement. No more captivity. Love. Birth. Life. Death. All one in the same. Namaste my Mysty-Blue forever etched in our hearts.