Stillness

He is kneeling at the dining room table,
as if he is praying.
Tenderly he opens his hands,
and I see he is cradling our sky blue parakeet.
Tears streaming down his red cheeks, he looks at me.
The tiny creature taking its last breaths.  
Feathers ripped from its wings and blood speckled on Dad's fingers.
 
The cat, I thought. Oh no.
 
We didn't say a word. His eyes told me there was nothing we can do.  
Suddenly, I am spinning.
My throat becomes tight, like a hand is pressing against my voice box.
My eyes become hot, swelling as I try to understand.
He had come home from work to find the poor thing suffering, and did the only thing he could think to do. Be there with it. Hold it. Calmly.
 
Our black cat is sitting in the open window, cleaning its right paw.  
Mother nature - her cruel dance. I knew I should have tied the cage better...
If I had only checked this morning.  
 
My feet feel like there are weights tied to them.
I kneel down beside my Dad and we both just...breath.
Everything around us becomes blurry and white. We are both spinning.
 
I have never seen tears on this man's face before.  
From stoic to compassion.
Both of our hearts breaking,
as we witness an innocent life in pain - helpless to mend it.
The bird's lungs exhale, and then nothing.
Motionless.
 
I could feel it was over.  
A seed had been planted that day. Uncertainty was ever present. It is all fleeting. We are all fragile.
It was in his stillness, while I was spinning, that I learned.
Not everything has to be a fight. A bipolar meltdown. A slam the door, screaming, burn down.
If Mom would have been here, this would have been a fight. This would have been trauma.
Dysregulation, like a crescendo, until everyone falls over.  
 
Somethings can just simply be sad.  
Sometimes, we should allow ourselves to become still and present.
Sometimes, with somethings, this is all we need.