Preparations Pt. Two (Emotions)

I have come to learn that most funerals are not for the deceased, but for the ones who are left. Would Steven really care about the flowers or what color his casket is? Certainly not! It is difficult to know what Steven truly would have wanted, for he died far too young.
Everythin' has been taken care of, the funeral has been planned; but no amount of preparin' for the funeral, prepares you for the funeral. I still cry at night. I still long and wish that he was here. I still wish that it was not Steven who was stuck on the highway. After tomorrow after the service and the wake, nothin' will go back to the way it used to be. I will still be without my love, missin' Steven terribly.

Preparations Pt. One (Logistics)

It's hard to describe the feelin' ya get when you see the love of your life dead. All of your memories of them flood your senses and you are left with a hollow feelin' deep inside your soul. As I followed the vulture to the tree, I hoped and prayed that this was wrong, that my Steven was alive somewhere, pickin' daisy's for me. As I peeked over the casket wall and saw my beloved Steven layin' there, broken and deformed; I could not help but become overwhelmed with sorrow. My very soul sank lower than it ever has before and the only comfort in that moment, was the soft moss between my large toes.

"Yes that is him." Was all I could say.

"I am so sorry for your loss, you have my deepest sympathy."

"Thank you."

"Now if you would please follow me so we can take care of the preparations."

He lead me to a fallen tree that had four vultures sitting on top of it, talking among themselves. "Excuse me gentlemen. This fine bunny has recently lost a loved one. Can we notify the moles to begin digging the grave? Thank you." And with that, the vultures flew away. "Now miss rabbit, we have many packages to chose from. We have the redwood vista, the bidford bluff, the crawford stream..." I could no longer focus on the words he was sayin'. I had no interest in those packages and neither did Steven. Though we seldom disgust it, when did agree that we would be buried in the meadow just north of our burrow. I always pictured us dyin' together, old and gray, weathered and weary; wise from the litters of kits that we raised. Slowly walkin' by the creek where we would let the kits play. As the seasons rolled by, our bones with get more stiff and troublesome, until finally one day we rest our heads never to wake up, bein' flooded by peace that we lived a grand ol' simple life. But all that is gone, all of those ideals, ruined. It isn't just Steven that I am burying, it is my future and my life.

I finally had to speak up. "Mister Vulture, all these packages sound rather lovely, but I would like to burry Steven in the meadow just north of our burrow, if that is alright?"

The vulture looked confused and with a rather deep voice said "Yes, that would be fine."

The Viewing Inside The Hollowed Tree

There was a knock on the hollow skeleton tree. I pulled my head from beneath my feathers and saw a lovely little bunny near the exposed root of the tree. I awoke the wake and glided down to the lower perch.

"Good Afternoon there miss, and how many I assist you?"

"Hello" she panted out of breathe. "I am lookin' for my beloved Steven. He didn't come home last night and I'm fearin' the worst, fearin' that he might be in your possession. You wouldn't happen to have any hares that have yet to be claimed, have you?"

I looked at her small fur-lined face and I could sense that she was most vulnerable. I extended my left wing as I said "please follow me to the viewing area". I flew toward the hollowed redwood tree. I landed in front of the opening and hopped inside. The rabbit was hesitant to enter, she appeared fidgety and worrisome. Soft moss covered the floor and four handmade caskets made a U shape within the tree. Each casket was beautifully constructed by the most skilled beavers. The caskets are composed of various twigs and sticks that the beavers find. The insides are lined with grass and moss to ensure comfort for cosmetic sake. I hop toward the casket on the far right. I peer over the edge to ensure that it is in fact the hare we found just north of here. "I am unsure if this is who you are looking for, but you may have a look."

She reluctantly and slowly moves toward the casket of twigs and branches. She appears uneasy as she places her paws on the corner. She looks over the edge and her ears fall, covering the side of her face. She nods her head and says:

"Yes that is him." I offer her my condolences and lead her out of the hollowed tree.

Pentalagus Abandon or The Hares Widow

We are known for our worrisome habits, we fidget and are constantly tappin' our large feet or front paws. I cannot help it if we simply have too much energy, it is the way we are made I suppose, you know part of our nature. Though it is part of our God-given nature, I am notoriously known for bein' the most hyperactive hypochondriac of all rabbits. So you will understand my reaction when my darlin' Steven did not come back to the burrow on time.

I sat over the kitchen, pacin' and poundin', just waitin' for him to pop into the burrow with his arms full of flowers askin' for some forgiveness sayin' that he will never be late again. So I paced and paced the burrow, tucked the kits in and asked for the lord to give me strength not to kill Steven when he first enters the burrow. I sat right near the entrance, makin' sure that I would see him.

What a thoughtless son-of-a-whoredoe! I thought to myself. I was warned not to get involved with a hare, they are thoughtless and prefer to live above ground in nest. Goodness, can you imagine?! Finally I could not take in anymore, I sprawled our on the dirt and prayed that Steven would be safe. I must have fallen asleep shortly after, for I woke up and the morning had just come. I quickly poked the kits and took them out to go grazing. As they ate, I bounced over to Jackie's burrow.

"Have you seen Steven?"

"Oh Hello Dixie, how are you today?"

"I am just fine Jackie, but have you seen Steven? He hasn't come home yet."

"Oh Dixie darlin' no I am afraid that I haven't. Clyde came home at the usual time last night."

"Well Mornin' Dixie!"

"Mornin' Clyde..."

"Hun, Dixie says that she has not seen Steven all-night, did he say anythin' to you after work?"

"Hmmmm, nope, he said he was comin' right home, didn't want drinks or nothin'. I reckon he had a rough day, Mr. Thimblebrush was being a "jackhole" if ya know what I mean." Clyde said with a chuckle, but I was not in the mood for laughin'. "Well I must be goin' to work, see ya lovely does later!"

"Good-bye hun! I'm awfully sorry Dixie, if you want I can watch the kits, while you go speak with the vultures."

It was in the moment that I was extremely torn. I did not want to consider that the love of my life was dead, the vultures waitin' for me to claim his body. But I knew it was not feasible to search the entire woods to find Steven. If the vultures had him, then at least I had closure.

"Thanks Jackie, I'm gonna go see the vultures, maybe they know what happened to him."

"Alright darlin' you just take your time, no need to rush. If ya need me to watch the kits for another day, just let a bluejay know, they are the most reliable messenger birds."

"Certainly Jackie, I will do just that. See you later."

And with that I set out towards the old skeleton tree, to see if the vultures knew where my lovely Steven is.

Cathartes Aura or The Wake of Vultures

People think we are no good scavenger birds, eating the remains of the deceased as if it is a delicacy. Those people are wrong, trust me.

We do not fly around in large circles looking for our next meal. Instead, we are circling so we can give those poor passed animals, a proper burial. We are not ugly buzzards, but rather the funeral homes of the animal kingdom. We are the grave diggers to all creatures, great and small.

One morning, right after the last rain of spring, my venue and I, were circling above the highway. You must forgive me, for I do not know the technical name for the road, for I (like many birds) am illiterate. It is a shame for I hear the badgers and moles discuss the most interesting literate. I digress. As we circled above the road right behind the bend that is surrounded by overlapping oak trees; we came upon a deceased hare, his dignity splattered about the pavement. We circle down and the wake consumes the asphalt. We assess the damage. The poor creature did not stand a chance. It must have been some reckless human teenagers, whipping around the corner at speeds greater than 55mph. The hare was probably late for dinner, his wife eager for him to return and play with the bunnies; and he did not see the speeding teens. Collision and the only causality was a member of the animal kingdom.

The wake and I clean up the victim and take him back to our nest. We send some other birds before us to begin funeral preparations. We return to the nest and place the hare in a lovely casket made of cedar and lined with the softest grass. We place a bouquet of lavender and lilacs. We then await for the family to come and pick up the deceased.