Braving the Waves
Season 2 - Episode 39: There's Always Something Left
From our lookout cliff, this morning, I forbid my body from bearing heartbreak twice because I can’t be forgiven. The arrow flies, not quivering once, arcing toward mother, who floats, sleepily, through celestial liquid to Valhalla. The thin boat churns the crests, flickering the flower-frilled bed for your burning body. The petals catch fire one at a time. And in the moment, overcome with grief, I’m unsure I see the second, swimming frame. There, far from the rocks & dock, is a muscular black lab paddling after the now blazing boat. Nobody nearby seems to see her, presumably believing animals don’t know about the dead. But my eyes are ready to see her sleek coat sinking not because she doesn’t understand death but because she does. I begin blaming the smoke & ash, snowing, for why mother’s boat hasn’t turned around to save her, but I recognize the test… …to see if she wouldn’t drown chasing something she could catch but never navigate upon again. I watch mother break into embers & fly, just as we dreamed she’d do last night, sparkling between life & death. Something is wrong. No— something is missing. Yes, missing… Love can’t burn—burn away, that is— there’s always something left at the end to remind you that death isn’t your fault. Missing. Missing. Missing. MISSING! MISSING! MISSING! THE MISSING POSTERS! SOMEHOW flapping with every neighborhood BARK. Too high to leap into the flailing sea I scream, “RUTHIE!” Of course RBG but also my middle name & my mother’s middle name & the name of our sweet dog in that water & all she needs to do is get to the boat So I could get to her. Racing to the shore’s edge I can’t see her! I can’t! “RUTHIE?! SWIM, GIRL!” Desperately tearing at my boot laces with short nails I hear a splatter of water to my left, so close it stinks of fish as it sprays my hot, damp face. Upon a jagged rock, she lay, waiting, whimpering as each wave laps her paws to be with us both at once.