heatherdlite

Murder victim burned on the ice.... or no?




3 hours 52 minutes ago


When she was set ablaze, is the headline. Which almost makes me feel shocked. That someone else could do that to someone, or something. It's actually quite dispicable. I had a wave of panic for a minute and I couldn't breathe right and wondered to myself if that's what I did?

Set something afire when it wasn't really dead. Oh, my God. How could I have done that? How awful....what a bad thought. Oh my GOD! WAIT.

I didn't do that. I didn't do that. I wouldn't do that . Whew. WOW. For a minute there I got scared.

I did set something afire just recently. But it wasn't alive anymore. She was dead. Or at least I hope she was definitely dead. Yeah, she was.


SHE WAS THE LAST OF THE COCKATIELS.

She was. She was beautiful. Yellow. Squeaky. Timid. And she had definitely expired. (I know you are thinking of the Monty Python thing where the "Parrot is no more"..and the hard as a rock parrot is pounded on the counter to show how dead and stiff it was. And how people just thought that was hilarious, the repeated smashing of a stiff dead bird got Monty Python a decent name in the humor business. It had to be funny.) IF you don't know of this, it's easy enough to find and see, if you so desire.

Not her. She wasn't funny. She was indeed dead. Flat on back, head back, feet straight up in the air. Her tuft of feathers on her head fell back like hair, and her eyes were half closed, almost all the way.

She looked peaceful, like a human. Sleeping.

Dead and stiff with rigor mortis. I learned this by watching too much CSI.

NOW. Given the excessive amount of CSI I had watched, knowing that only after a few hours of death, rigor sets in, and shortly thereafter the body begins to deteriorate. Needless to say I hadn't been home all day, cause I was out, improving myself. Getting the proper excersise, breaking some of my boundaries, letting myself be free.....using the law of attraction, feeling great and limitless. WELL, apparently during that, I somewhere killed my inner bird, cause there she was.

MIND YOU, I had just picked up my wonderful, beautiful, precious daughter from school, and here we were, all happy. She was chatting with her little friend on the phone, etc, etc. And I was going about my business, la de da....when I noticed the bird's expiration.

SADNESS.


I said,

"OH MY GOD! THE COCKATIEL IS DEAD!"

With grief and sadness... My daughter was upset. We both were upset. Tears just falling down. So sad. Poor little birdie. We both looked at her, and I commented on how pretty she actually was and how sorry I was that I wasn't there for her as much as I should have been. She took her last breath, probably as I watched my pulse on an excersise bike.

GUILT.

Had come. But, you can't feel guilty now. You have to do the right thing. And, the right thing is to do something nice for her death. My daughter asked where we were going to bury the bird, and I said I wasn't sure.

Now, had it been any other time but FEBRUARY in Massachusetts when the tempurature wasn't BELOW FUCKING ZERO, I'd have found a nice, shady tree on a hill somewhere in the woods for her final resting place, as I had done for all my pets who had passed on to ......somewhere pets go when they die. Pet heaven, right?


SO I CALLED MY HUSBAND AND ASKED HIM IF HE HAD A SHOVEL.


ANGER.
He didn't. Only a SNOW shovel which will get me nowhere in this cirucumstance.

Apparently it's difficult to dig the ground when frozen, even with heavy machinery. That's what he said. I believed it to be true.
He said that even in cemetaries they have a hard time in the winter digging the gravesites for people to be put in.

AND ME, I'M JUST SO SMART that I thought instead of digging my own hole, I'll just find one pre dug.
"WOW. I'm good."
I said to myself, like, I solved this problem like, right quick.


SO THEN WE DECIDED IT WAS TIME TO GO.

My daughter and I set out, but not before taking Yellow Bird's lifeless stiff little body, wrapping her in paper towels, (Viva to be exact.) and finding a little box to be her coffin.

Sad. Tears. Sad.


ORGANIC O's

Was the only box I had that would suit such a thing. A cereal box of ORGANIC O's would have to do. So, I put her inside, all mummified like wrapped, and put her in the box. I wrote "BELOVED COCKATIEL" on the box, just over the lettering that was already there.
"Organic" , I thought.
Yes, it's organic but definitely NOT O's. That was the best I could do. THEN

My daughter,
the deceased,
and me all got into my car on the way to pay our final respects.

OR SO I THOUGHT.


NOW there is a cemetary, a really nice one down the street from here. It's actually a beautiful place with big weepy trees, and grass and stuff that I supposed would be appropriate for this occasion. My daughter asked why we weren't going to the woods to dig, and I had explained that the ground is frozen, like the ICE right now, and would be impossible for mom to dig, without the right shovel and all that and that I had a solution to this by going to the cemetary and finding an already dug grave, cause you know, people die every single day and they need to be buried. Breathe.

SHE UNDERSTOOD THIS, as far as an 11 year old can. But she's smarter than the average child, and in fact, she is probably smarter than me.

(In this time, you kind of look for the lesson about birth and death, and the proper care of your pet in life and death, and proper respect for the dead and all this other happy horseshit you need to teach your child when the times come...)

IT TOOK US APPROXIMATELY ONE MINUTE

TO drive there, this lovely little cemetary, right next to a children's school. How lovely for the bird to be buried there, right?

WRONG.

FIRST OF ALL,

Cemetaries don't get sanded in the winter. I wasn't aware of that. Being a bit of snow on the ground here, and being it's BELOW FUCKING ZERO temperatures it's actually quite ICY.

We looked and looked as I drove frantically around the cemetary, my daughter pointed out holes to me, but they weren't the kind of holes we were looking for. I know she doesn't know that people get buried about 6 feet under, and so .... of course she doesn't know that yet. I wouldn't want her to.


THE ROAD was slippery and icy, and lets just say driving around a cemetary in a frantic style probably isn't the best thing to do, and we almost did actually hit a few headstones.


"Mom, be careful. You're gonna knock one of those over."

YES. She was right, so I came to the conclusion that we should leave this particular site, and move on to the next.

ACROSS TOWN there are more cemetaries. Yes. I had a map of them in my head now, being that me and my daughter were on this mission to handle death, and bury it in the proper way.

YES SIRREE. We arrived at the next cemetary. This was a bigger one, of course someone would have died and surely want to be placed here. NOT as nice and peaceful as the other, but still pretty serene though.

THE SAME RULE APPLIED to this one with roads being unplowed, slick with glassy ice. Up and down, across these cemetary roads filled with statues of sorrow, peace, and love and rememberance.

Statues of angels spreading their wings saying
"This way, this way, to bury your beloved bird..."

Here we were, skidding around these calling statues..sliding, and slipping around the cemetary (like guys going 4 wheeling in a truck. ?! )

BUT NO.
I went. We went. In our fervor to find a plot, we raced and skidded around, up and down these cemetary roads like teenagers getting high and going for a joy ride or something.
I did the best I could without hitting or desecrating anyone's headstone, and that was good.

SHOCK.

I DIDN'T SEE THE DOG RIGHT AWAY.


I only saw the man walking. We only saw the man. THEN THE DOG jumped right in front of my car.

"AAAGGGH!"

A fucking beagle! A fucking man! Walking his dog and smoking in cemetary. WHAT THE FUCK. ?

I barely stopped for the dog. I almost ran over a dog, in a cemetary, whilst trying to bury my dead pet. How convenient? What a great thing for my daughter to experience...

DOESN'T HE KNOW THERE IS A LEASH LAW? FUCK!

I DIDN'T KILL THE DOG. AND WE DIDN'T FIND ANY HOLES. BREATHE.

My daughter pointed out that things weren't looking too promising. I said I knew. I did know. So, I told her there was ANOTHER cemetary down the road.

SO, NOW WE GO THERE.



"Mom. Do you know anyone besides the bird that died lately?"
She asked.

"No Honey, why do you ask?" I laughed a little bit.

"Then how come you know where all the cemetaries are?"

That's a really good question. And I had an answer. But I couldn't say my real answer.

1. (Moms don't tell their kids how they used to meet their Stepdad for lunchbreak sex in cemetaries when the relationship was all new and giddy. That's just something you don't say to your kids, or anyone for that matter. I know, he knows, and all the dead people, and birds and squirrels know. Oh, and now you.)

"THAT'S A GOOD QUESTION HONEY, and I know where the cemetaries are cause I drive by them all the time.."

"Oh. That's true." She said. Satisfied with my answer.

I was positive that I'd find us a grave for my fine feathered friend here. AND once again I was dead wrong.

WE DROVE AROUND FOR A FEW HOURS

In the freezing temperatures. Through cemetaries. Almost desecrating headstones, and almost killing other's pets in the process.

I had to keep the heat on high.


I knew that the deceased probably shouldn't be in a warm environment any longer, especially in my car with the both of us present. Really not a good idea, just so you know, in case something like this ever happens to you.

I smelled somewhat of an odor.

THE BIRD CARCASS HAD TO GO.



All I could think of is decaying bird carcass,
and the song by THE DOORS.


"The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the myre
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre

Come on baby light my fire
Come on baby light my fire
Try to set the night on fire"

Jim Morrison was singing to me, personally, instructing me on what to do with my dead bird. A funeral pyre.
OF COURSE, cause I AM JUST SO FUCKING SMART, right?

WHY?

BECAUSE, of course, I would make her a funeral pyre. And this would be proper for her, my dead bird.

ONCE AGAIN, because I'm so smart. I can figure things out, no problem!

So, we park the car next to an opening in the woods, next to a pond.

I told her what had to be done, NOW. Before the body starts to rot.

She understood because once again, we watch too much CSI.

I needed to stuff the cereal box with paper and things to burn. ALL I HAD WAS some pamphlets on plastic surgery from a doctor's office.

I went a while back inquiring about some plastic surgery I may still do. (His name was on the papers, my name was on the papers, but how shall I cremate my beloved with nothing to burn?) Fuck it. Just use those. SO, I did. Stuffing them into the cereal box along with my beloved dead bird.

"Mom, isn't that like, littering?" She asked.

I taught her well not to litter. Yes, I did.

"Well, yes and no." I explained.
"We're not doing it for a bad reason. We need to do it for the bird, we can't bury her, and we can't throw her in the trash bin.."

"I know." She said.

It was so fucking cold. Let me just say. On our way in I grabbed some sticks and leaves, just a few that were dry to add them into the funeral box.

We got down on the ground, and I stuffed the box a little more.

She cried.

"Oh honey, it's ok..." I said.

"NO MOM, you're goint to start a forest fire and we're going to get in trouble!" She yelled at me.

WOW. I guess I taught her well not to play with fire.
NO SHIT. Smart girl.
2. (I told you she was smarter than me.)


"It's ok, we're by the water honey.." and as I turned to look,
it was all frozen.

"It's all frozen. Solid." She said. AND YES I KNEW.

EVERYTHING IS FROZEN FUCKING SOLID THE DAY MY BIRD DIES AND I HAVE TO BURY IT AND TEACH MY DAUGHTER THESE IMPORTANT LIFE LESSONS.

Of course.

SO, I HAD another idea. Because I am just so fucking smart, right?

Ice. Ice will work for this. I will set the whole thing ablaze, and push it out where there is thin ice, so it will burn and melt through and she will finally be at a resting place.
IT IS a beautiful pond, with trees and beavers and bugs and things, so maybe this is why there were no plots in the cemetary.


RELIEF.

AS I stuff the box a little more, I close it up a bit, and say goodbye and nice knowing you and all that to the bird, and we cry and it's so fucking cold that our noses were bright pink and the tears were freezing up which was definitely uncomfortable...

BREATHE.
It will be over soon.

I gently light the box. It starts to burn. I have to move it from here to there, in the middle of the river where the ice is thin.

I really shouldn't be doing this, I thought. But what choice do I have?

I PUNTED THE BOX ABLAZE, like a kicker for the Patriots.

containing 1 dead bird
informative pamphlets on plastic surgery
sticks and various pine items

that flew through the air, and skidded across the ice.

BUT NOT FAR ENOUGH.

And not only that, but there were bits of things on fire scattered about the ice, smouldering.

Along with my poor dead friend in a cereal box, smoking like a campfire that didn't go out properly.


ANGUISH.


WHAT A FAILURE.

What a failure I am. What a fucking asshole I feel like. I cried more, my daughter cried more. Our faces froze, and I walked out onto the ice and my daughter said

"NO MOM! Don't go out on the ice! You'll fall through!"
She yelled at me again. Again.

I didn't. She looked at me, and I looked at her. The box smouldering in the sunset.
The Massachusetts sunset that is, at
6 O FUCKING CLOCK AT NIGHT BECAUSE IT'S WINTER AND EVERYTHING IS FUCKING FROZEN, AND I'M A LOSER, WHO CANT EVEN BURY A DEAD BIRD PROPERLY.

We decided there was nothing else we could do. We did our best.

We went home.

She asked me if she should still go to her dance this weekend, and I said yes, she definitely should.

"Why, Mom?"

"Because the living should actually live. That's why."


That was an answer, and I believed it to be true. She was happy with that answer too, and that made me happy.

We were exhausted, both of us. I had a headache like you wouldn't believe, and we were waiting for my Husband to come home from work.


HUMILIATION.


I told him the story of it, and how awful it was, and how I almost killed a dog, and raced around cemetaries with my kid in the car, and punted a fiery dead bird across the lake for a final finish to this disaster, and he said he was sorry for me and the bird, but he found it fucking hysterical and felt bad for thinking of it like that. He felt bad, but had to laugh anyway.

BREATHE.


FEAR.

I went to bed feeling miserable. My daughter asked me what would happen if someone found it on the ice like that. I said I didn't know. The thing is, I did know but I really didn't want to scare her or anything.

Consequenses of persons retrieving dead bird from ice would be:

1. People find dead bird, with my information on it and I get in trouble for cruely to animals, and fined for littering.

2. People find dead bird with the plastic surgeons name on it, and HE gets in trouble for cruelty to animals, and fined for littering.

3. People start playing ice hockey with it. Not knowing what it is.

4. People start playing ice hockey with it knowing full well what it is.



But I didn't say that to her. See rule #1.

PEACE.


A day or two passed, and it's still cold. She is no longer with us. My daughter said that her body is still on the ice, but she wasn't.

I believed her.





In fact, I realized what had happened in all the ridiculous bullshit and I just couldn't see what was right in front of me THE WHOLE TIME.

I believed her about a lot of things! How she told me to
"SLOW DOWN"
before I hit something..

How she told me
"NOT TO BURN THE FOREST!"



How she told me
"NOT TO GO ON THIN ICE!"

SHE HAD RESPECT FOR THE DEAD...

How she told me
"IT WAS TIME TO GO HOME"
and she knew when enough was enough already.

She told me the body was here but the spirit wasn't.


LOVE.

I told you she was smart.

And, in fact THAT WAS THE LESSON. For me.

My daughter actually listens to me! My daughter is so smart and bright, and knows things I've taught her over and over again! SHE told me what to do that day. OR what NOT to do..

We all look for validation, and we all look for some little sign that our kids will listen to us, and get it when we say something time and time again. We want to know they'll be all right, and not do stupid things when we can't watch over them every two seconds....

I think I know. In fact, I do know.


JOY.

She is an amazing person. I did a good job raising her. I will continue to do that, because I do all I can. Just like that day, I did all I could. We did all we could.

That is the lesson.

There is also another lesson.

It's ok if people laugh at my misfortune, and the bird's. It's ok.
We are supposed to laugh. A lot. And hard.

As far as I know, we are the only things on the planet that actually can laugh, so we probably should take advantage of that whenever humanly possible.

I hope the best for the bird, and that she is happy now.

I will be living with my daughter, and we will be fully living our lives. Even if it means punting dead things on fire across a lake.


GRATITUDE.

For my daughter, for the bird, and all the other stuff in my life.



And this is my gift to you.

It's in the worst of times when you really get to see yourself, and others true selves.

You can be your own hero,
and no matter what,
just keep going and do your best,
you can't regret that..

And most of the time, things really are funny. Especially the things that happen to me.

In hindsight, of course.




for my friend, cockatiel.