Over the weekend, my children experienced the reality of death and dying. There was an awful sound coming from the toilet fan this afternoon. Upon popping the cover, a poor little mouse was hanging, trapped between the blades. My daughter Lucy gasped upon seeing it. But I gasped when I gently tried to extricate it from the fan and it squeaked in desperation, clawing at me to free it.
It was still alive.
With great care, I was able to get the little critter down and, with Lucy's help we made a little bed for it in a margarine container. The mouse was severely shocked and undoubtedly injured but, as the old saying goes, where there's life, there's hope. Lucy sat with the mouse, cradling the margarine container, weeping softly and asking me if she was going to be alright. I told her I didn't know but if you stay her and let her know you're there, that would be very good. That might help.
After a couple of hours, the dear little mouse, quietly slipped away on her little bed of Kleenex. Lucy said a little prayer and we gently put the lid on the margarine container. We buried it in the garden.
Life comes and it goes. How each life affects us, makes all the difference.