Donna had left us at the break of the dawn. She will now assume her new post alongside Dusty, her big brother, father figure, and partner in crime, who have paved the way to heaven before her.
Little tears were shed, although no amount of cry would represent the loss and pain. Donna had spent her last moments in life expanding new horizon for me that will bring hope to very many others after her. Donna had given us enough time to gather just enough grace to stand at the intersection tall and dignified as she is, and wave our hand with smile on our faces when we part ways.
Earlier that night, when our eyes locked for one last time, we made a deal: That we will continue to walk together. She will be there, watching over me when I look up, I will be there, saving others that her departure had created a space for, when she looks down.
During her life, Donna has been surrounded by kind people. A humble merchant selling steamed fish for meager living, who hid her in the bucket full of fish, the only means available to her, to keep little Donna safe when she pitched me as best as she can to bring her home. A friend of The Whiskers’ Syndicate, who gave her a fitting name, and sponsor her for the whole year as a Christmas gift for her sister. Numerous vets who went head over heels and back again to heal her, therapists who pore books after books in many languages to find a clue; supporters all over the world who pour their heart and soul and purse to give her all the chance she might get. Everybody else who went down on their knees pleading with their own heaven to bring her back from the valley of darkness. From now on, darkness will never again touch her.
That load of kindness, the connection that had been weaved through and by her between all of us, her lively strides, two round eyes that never droop in sorrow, are how I am going to remember her. Those will be the stars that will keep my heart alight when sky went dark and the sun sets at the horizon. Those will be the fire that I am sure you and I will be honored to keep on fanning. Those will be the creed with which, and by which The Whiskers’ Syndicate will strive and thrive.
Birds will sing along as I carry her to the end of her existence on earth. Wind will blow and dandelion will fly to escort her ashes, as she joined all who went before her. And then we will start keeping our promise: to share the love that even the sky cannot limit