The Message

I sat outside at end of day and watched the night close in. A year had come; a year had gone, since death came for my friend. The sadness so well known by now crept softly to the fore. The tears spilled from my eyelids like so many times before. A small white dog sat by my chair: remainder of a well matched pair. This little dog I loved so well could not replace the one who fell. My thoughts were of the absent one, my Boggs, who’d left my side. I wondered had he been near me and knew the times I cried? I asked him for a tiny sign that I might hear or see, That he was in the midst of us, young Casey dog and me. But then I felt so foolish: commenced to think out loud. “Oh sure, you’re going to see him in that single, passing cloud.” And even as I spoke the words my eyes were drawn that way. The sky had darkened deeply with the closing of the day. A cloud hung there before me, white and large and clear. The side view of a canine head, its eyes and mouth dark smears. Its pointed ears were wispy, it’s nose that of a dog. It hung there in the twilight sky: the image of old Boggs. I then felt thoughts within my mind: thoughts heard, as if were spoke. And still the cloud remained the same, did not change shape like smoke. “You see I’m fine, I’m here with you, at times you think of me. My new life is a happy one. My spirit now is free. Stop knowing such great sadness and stop feeling so bereft. Give Casey all the love you have, for the time that he has left.” These thoughts would end the chapter of the sharpest of my grief. My love could now be Casey’s and I felt a strange relief. I wondered at the message though, of Casey’s time now left? The answer came before year three, at the time of Casey’s death. I sit outside at end of day and watch the night close in. The years have come; the years have gone, since Boggs came for his friend . .