elizagirl

Dear small, fuzzy, grey thing I zoomed past on the street today. I didn't get a good look at you. It could have been fur, could have been feathers, might not have been either. Small fuzzy grey thing, if you were once alive, I'm so sorry that you aren't now, and I hope it was fast. I hope you had your head turned and were deep in thought, pondering your favourite things, and never even knew what hit you.

I hope that in the small fuzzy grey afterlife you will find those favourite things. If you liked wine, I hope there's all the wine you can drink, and a comfortable chair you can call your own, with one of those attached stools that flips up, and leans you waaaayyyy back. I hope there are books, or empty thread spools, or matchsticks or rotting cabbage bits or a fireplace. It will be personalized for you, however eccentric your small, fuzzy grey tastes may have been.

I hope the small fuzzy grey things you loved in life and had to say goodbye to are there with you, and there are tearful reunions, and they excitedly show you around and welcome you back to them with loving, joy-filled arms/paws/wings.

I hope it's all good, and there's no fear, no pain, no uncertainty anymore of anything. I hope you are filled with peace for the fuzzy grey things you left behind on Earth, knowing that whatever struggles remain for them, they have this to look forward to, and you.

Small fuzzy grey thing, if you were only a glove, or a sock, I know you did your best, and somewhere, sometime, someone's fingers or toes were warmer, safer, for your existence. You fulfilled your purpose.

Regardless of your origins, small fuzzy grey thing, you had a purpose, and a right to be here, and I hope the best for you.

Amen.