I’ve not really thought too deeply about this before, probably because my family losses have been expected through old age and illness, now I find myself thinking about it a lot. Will we see our Bridge babies again? The answer is simple, we either will or we won't. Two options, that's all there is. It's not multiple choice. Two. It is what it is… a very small number.
When Timothy passed, I had so many signs. My husband called them 'coincidences'. But I knew different, because it wasn't just what I found or saw, it was that deep 'knowing' feeling. I could step over a feather to pick up another, because I just knew that was the special one. I could see a shape in the sky that no one else could see. A rainbow in the distance that was barely visible. This is coming from the most rational person ever.
I came here to Rainbow Bridge to tell a lot of people I have never met about Timothy, because he deserved it, and I did just that. I have to believe that I will see him again, because I never got to say goodbye.
This is a story I wrote to help me when I lost Timothy. Its not just a bunny story. The sentiment is for all of our fur angels. I would like to share it here because here it is sort of my memory keeper.
For Timothy. My precious bunny.
An angel looked at you and thought...he's too beautiful. He belongs with me in heaven. I need to take him when his mummy is not there because otherwise she will fight and fight to keep him and she won't let him go. And that is so true, I would have done that. I would have fought that angel like a mamma tiger to keep you with me and I am no fighter.
But what to give back to your mummy in return? Because when you go, her heart will break into a million pieces and it isn't fair because she cared for you and loved you so much. You knew, Timmy, you absolutely knew I loved you because I told you every single day and more. At the Rainbow Bridge you told your angel, "My Mimmymoo is saying sorry and she's sobbing and angry because she doesn't understand why I left her. I think she is asking for a time machine. But she knows she can't have that, so instead, please leave her the white feathers, it doesn’t matter where…she will find them. And my two Angel Wings. Send her the rainbows, lift her head to show her the bunny shaped clouds and the brightest twinkling star. Blow softly on her face to dry her tears, so that no one knows she is crying again and say that she's just a silly lady who lost a silly rabbit. Let her dream the Bridge dream at least once, let her dream of me sometimes, see the butterflies, the wild rabbit, the special little robin that sings to her, the funny rabbit shape on the rug and in the picture on wall, and, of course, the 'bunny tree', then she will know for sure that I'm here, I'm safe, I'm warm, and that it wasn't her fault, she didn't hurt me. The angels just needed me that day. I have my banana hay, my dandelions, my carrot tops, my kale, my parsley and my treats. I will still play my chase game, cause a bit of a hullabaloo sometimes, cause a lot of mischief most of the time, and binky forever. And I have my angel here to take care of me. I will be happy. "
I needed those precious signs and they came, straight away after you left me, one after the other. They really did. Thank you for sending them to me, Timothy, but they only filled a tiny, tiny hole in my broken heart and they kept falling out. The comfort I needed lasted a little while but then the hole got bigger. So I guess, right now, it's so big, it's unfixable, no matter what you give to me. One day we will mend it together.
Timbob, my eyes open and I see you, my eyes close and I see you. I don't need photographs. My ears hear you pitter pattering across the floor or running up the stairs or throwing things around for fun with your teeth because you were stroppy and because we laughed at you. I hear you scratching at the door. Your funny little bunny grunts are as loud as loud can be. I hear your daddy talking to you early in the morning. Then my ears also hear the deafening silence. I feel the nipping at my ankles, your licks on my arm, your soft fur, your whiskers, your floppy, loppy odd coloured ears (your scarf, grandma called it), your size ten feet that you would thump when I got upset to tell me to stop. Your bobbity tail, your white nose. You were always my shadow, following me everywhere, but now I turn around and you are not there. My eyes are constantly full of tears, my ears are listening for every tiny sound you made, my hands that fed you and petted you and brushed you and cleaned up after you have nothing like that to do now, my mind plays tricks most of the time and makes me believe you are still here. I come home and sometimes peep into the kitchen window to see if you are waiting for me like you used to be. I step over you in the kitchen doorway. Our house is empty. The rooms are strange. Our garden is sad. I am lost. Time stands still. Every day, hour, minute without you here is the same now. Fun went with you to the Bridge. Our favourite chase game around the dining table was once the last and I didn't know it then. I call you, I hide, I wait, but you don't come to find me anymore. The happy smiles and the laughter you gave to me have gone forever. But I hide that well and do that big pretend thing that I'm so good at that "I'm fine". Only me and you know that I'm not. It's our secret.
Those naughty dandelions will grow and grow in the garden but I will never pick them again for you. Your herb box is now full of flowers and pretty lights and butterflies and sometimes I still can't help but think you lie asleep under there. Many kind people tell me you don't. I have to believe them. Remember Mr & Mrs Pigeon and the scary black and white kitty with the bell? They still come to sit on the fence to look for you. I tell them you have gone away for a while and for them to come back tomorrow.
But, all this is nothing compared to my heart. It is smashed, crushed, crumpled, broken, shattered. It can never be put back together whole even if I tried because you still have a part of it. So I won't try to mend it just now. There will be another time and another place for that. It will stay broken for As. Long. As. It. Takes.
Timothy. Timbob Roo. Jelly Belly. Our Little Man. You were mine. From the day you came into existence you were mine. You will always be mine and one day I will come for you because there is a reason why I never got to say goodbye to you. It was never goodbye. Go into the garden and wait for me like you used to. I will come and take that piece of my heart back so keep it safe. I will take you back and only then will I stop missing you. Please go tell that to your angel. Mamma Tiger will be back.
Love you, be good, see you soon, won't be long.
"It wouldn't take me long, to tell you where to find it. To tell you where we'll meet. This little girl inside me is retreating to her favourite place. Go into the garden, under the ivy, under the leaves, away from the party. Go right to the rose. Go right to the white rose. For me. Kate Bush: Under the Ivy.