The Micheal Angelo Memorial Service

Everything ends.  Cory's first face to face experience with the loss of a loved one took place in 2006.  She was thirteen years old.  At that time, we housed a slew of cats, a new puppy, and Micheal Angelo, Cory's beloved lizard.  Up to that point, we had never really had a pet die, other than some of my classroom pet frogs who went up against an afterschool program and lost in a sad and violent manner.  There were also the standard fish of childhood, but you know how that goes...those losses are a little easier.  First of all, no matter how hard you try to project a personality on a fish, it never quite takes.  Secondly, there isn't a lot of touch involved, which produces all those wonderful chemicals and facilitate attachment.

How did Cory take the loss of her pet?  She was deeply saddened, and with my encouragement, channeled her grief in the dramatic way that only she could.  She single handedly went about making all the proper arrangements.  Loved ones (namely me and Tim) were notified and given elaborate yarn-tied invitations to his ceremony. 

I will never forget that sunny afternoon in August.  Cory, with tears still drying on her cheeks- cheeks that announced to the world she had exited childhood and would soon be a young woman- flipped calmly through her dressy clothes until she found a black dress.  She put her hair up on her own, befitting a somber occasion.  She encouraged Tim and I to wear something dignified.  Grinning behind my hand, I put on a dress and heels, showing her I was on her team.  Tim hemmed and hawed, showing up in his pajama pants, and getting elbowed in the stomach by yours truly about every two minutes.

Here is what the invitation, typed by Cory, said:

You are invited to celebrate the memory of our deceased friend, Micheal Angelo, at the Micheal Angelo Memorial Service this week.  Come and celebrate the accomplishments this wonderful lizard made in his lifetime and join us in saying our final farewell.

When:  Tuesday, August 8th, 2006
Where:  53 Miller Avenue
Time:  1-3 p.m.

If you can, please prepare something to share with us at the service.
Poems, songs, drawings, speeches, or interpretive dance routines are acceptable.

Thank you,
Cory Mansfield

As we walked into the porch, Cory ushered us personally to the small row of chairs she'd  set up.  She gave Tim and I a program, and walked solemnly up to the makeshift podium she'd put together.

This was the program:

Micheal Angelo Memorial Service

• Introduction
• Poem 1 (Nothing Gold Can Stay)
• Readings from the Family
• Micheal Angelo (an original poem)
• Poem 2 (Annabelle Lee)
• A moment of silence.  Song, (Dear Friend)
• Bible Reading

I remember threatening Tim within an inch of his life if he didn't sit up and show that poor girl some support.  He complained through the entire eulogy, to which Cory favored him with severe, scathing looks of disapproval.

These were her notes:

Thank you all for joining me today to honor our friend, Micheal Angelo.  He was one of the best pets I ever had.  It was always a pleasure to be around him.  I was shocked and dismayed to hear of his death.  I thought it was only right to say one last good bye to him.

I will now read a poem by Robert Frost.  It is one of my favorites, entitled:  Nothing Gold Can Stay.  The time I had with Micheal Angelo was wonderful, but didn't last nearly as long as I'd have liked.

Now I asked you all to prepare some sort of ode to our friend.  At this time I would like for you all to present your work.  Who will go first?

Thank you for that.  At this time, I will read aloud an original poem I wrote to honor Micheal Angelo. 

I have another poem- my favorite- Annabelle Lee, by Edgar Allen Poe.  I believe Micheal Angelo and I share a bound similar to the one expressed in this poem.

Now let us all bow our heads in a moment of silence as we listen to a song.

Bible reading.

She was thirteen, people...thirteen.  Can you see why it is so hard to say goodbye to someone so beautiful, and so embedded in my soul?  I wish I were able to do it with half as much grace as she did.

Smart, funny, eloquent, well-read, sensitive...how could anyone not want to be part of this child's life?  How could anyone walk away from the pure wonder of her? 

Instead of carrying myself with the same sort of respectful dignity, I find myself sobbing in odd locations, ordering things off the internet late at night, going through periods when I can't get out of bed, and engaging in passive- aggressive behavior with my loved ones and strangers, alike.

When I got the mail today, I discovered yet another American Girl catalogue.  As I brought the mail in, I berated the American Girl company for their lack of sensitivity to continue sending these catalogues.  After a full two minutes of declaring them stupid, cruel, and just plain mean, I remembered I haven't contacted them to tell them there is no longer a girl living here that collects their dolls.  I could call them; the catalogues would stop coming.  Would I do this?  Not a chance.  Yet, I would still bitch and complain the next time one shows up in my mailbox.

Try as I might, I continue to pull people in, and just as quickly push them away.  This grief experience is so confusing, almost like when you step off one of those carnival rides that spins in circles, and can't put one foot in front of the other.

I wish I could handle this as well as Cory handled the loss of her pet.  I so want to make her proud.

Annabel Lee

By Edgar Allan Poe 1809–1849 Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,

   In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

   By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

   Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

   I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

   Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

   My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

   And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

   In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

   Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

   In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

   Of those who were older than we—

   Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

   Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

   In her sepulchre there by the sea—

   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Nothing Gold Can Stay, by Robert Frost

 

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.