A few days ago, I went off on a rant about the general failure to thrive of human civilization. Though I don’t necessarily think I was wrong, I certainly wish to consider how broad was my generalization, and make a conditional retraction. I should have said that the institutions of civilization have failed to support the betterment of life for people.
Things like the following tend to break my heart just enough to see where it needs to be fixed. It arrived by email from my Mom today; author, unknown. Maybe, on many levels that rarely make the mainstream media, we’re not doing so badly after all. Maybe people are actually lovable.
This is one of the kindest things I’ve ever experienced. I have no way to know who sent it, but there is a kind soul working in the dead letter office of the US Postal Service.
Our 14-year-old dog, Abbey, died last month. The day after she died, my 4-year-old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey! She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so she dictated these words:
Dear God, Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick. I hope you will play with her. She likes to play with balls and to swim. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her you will know that she is my dog. I really miss her. Love, Meredith.
We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had.
Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed,” To Meredith” in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, “When a Pet Dies.” Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:
Dear Meredith, Abbey arrived safely in heaven. Having the picture was a big help. I recognized Abbey right away.
Abbey isn’t sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog.
Since we don’t need our bodies in heaven, I don’t have any pockets to keep your picture in, so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by.
Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you. I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much.
By the way, I am wherever there is love.
Love,
God
Metaphor 
Lovely story.
When my first-born was a year old, my 16-year old cat died in his sleep. He had never really made the transition from being my baby to being my “cat baby.”
I felt a huge amount of guilt and sadness b/c while he died in his sleep and I was glad of that, he died sleeping in a chair in the kitchen instead of in my bed, where he had slept for most of the previous 15 years of his life.
I could not really let this go. A few days later, my son and I were playing in the living room and I turned on the TV to Mr. Rogers. It was his episode saying goodbye to his own cat who had died.
What a perfect thing that was for me.
And to end the story with a bang – when we moved to our farm a few years ago we started thinking about getting kittens. Out to dinner one night we saw a photo on the bulletin board advertising 3 free kittens that had been born to an abandoned mama cat, rescued and cared for by a family who would keep her.
One of the kittens looked exactly like Yuri (and his sister looked very much like Yuri’s cat companion Sergei, who had lived to be 18).
So now we have Dickens E. Wickens (plus his two sisters) and he is the baby of the family and gets attention from all of us pretty much nonstop.
Every now and then I slip up and call him Yuri.
Post office employee? I prefer to think it was from God.
Beautiful post, Kyle. 🙂 Brought tears to my eyes.
Cool. The post office employee was probably fired for pulling that little stunt.
that’s beautiful. it kinda gives you faith in humanity after all doesn’t it. 🙂