Of waves and willi-willis…
We scattered Milo’s ashes today.
Lest you not know who Milo is… he is/was my beloved fifteen year old Jack Russell terrier who died of cancer a month ago.
Grief is a funny thing. It gives one headaches, stomach cramps, bone aches, sleeplessness, tears, heaviness, loss of appetite, and anger. That’s what the books say. And it’s true. That’s exactly what our family has felt on and off over the past month without our frenetic little fellow around.
Some days it’s fine… you get on, you do things, you laugh and joke and run a million miles with the joy of living. But then there’s the odd day, maybe more for those who have lost a pet, where grief just grabs you.
Having been through this before, I know it ebbs and flows, that time heals… all those wonderful clichés that are so true.
Let me tell you quickly about today. It was a Milo day… blue and white sky, a barely there offshore breeze and Milo waves… waves that plop apologetically, but in a perfect rolling break from reef to point.
We call them Milo waves because he would chase the break for the full kilometre of the beach. We waded out into the water, our other little JRT wading with us and we let the fine grey ash trickle through our fingers to lie on the surface of the water for a moment before it drifted gently to the sand on the floor of the sea.
As my son sat on the shore putting his shoes back on, a willi-willi (a small whirlwind) came swirling shyly over the sandbank to his left shoulder where it almost surrounded him. We chose to think it was Milo’s spirit letting us know he was with us and that it was exactly where he wanted his remains to be.
And for the rest of the day, the sun warmed and the birds sang in the coastline trees… it wasn’t so bad.