Four of Twelve

Let us talk of graves.

In an ancient empire across the sea, where they pride themselves on their writing, the words for four and death sound one and the same. So under the fourth moon, let us sit upon the earth and wonder if we’ll be one of the lucky ones whose naked bones are granted the gift of dirt.

The ache….

Ever since I was young, I’ve hoped to be the first of my family to die. I was on track to fulfill that wish until the tailed ones walked into my life. 

The first of them to die was Sugar. He was her dog and I met him when he was already old. He had a tremulous shake in his back leg, an incredible jump and mysterious ability to open doors. When the time came, he knew before anyone else and made preparations by finding a corner of the yard to claim as his resting place. Even though he showed us it was time, I was still unprepared when the moment came. I was drifting through the days, unaware they were numbered. I had no money to ask for help from the doctors. And worst of all, I missed his passing because I overslept. I dug my first grave that afternoon. He got the corner he’d claimed.

I resolved then to never be unprepared again �" the next time I’d fight the ravages of time with every piece of science and society I could get my hands on. For the first time in my life, I went and got a respectable job. I promised her there would be no question of money the next time death came for one of those in our care.

The ache is....

The second of them to die was Philly. He was a loud, tiny monster with an attitude as prickly as his fur was fluffy. When he barked, he would spin in circles to drive his point home. In those years, I slept on the floor, and he would come in the middle of the night to claim my pillow as his own. Eventually, his heart grew too big for him. But I kept my promise and more. I enlisted the help of doctors, they gave him every procedure available, and I stunted my career to stay in this desert town next to him. The medicine and the love kept death at bay for two more years. When the time finally came, I thought I was ready. I took the day off work, and we spoiled him with food he never was allowed to have. Those last hours in the afternoon somehow stretched out forever and still weren’t nearly long enough. The doctor warned me that it would happen fast as I was rocking him in my arms. Holding him was the only thing that stopped the terrible cough. I said I was ready, and in that sterile, fluorescent chamber, I realized how little I knew when the needle took his breath away. I dug another grave that evening. He claimed a spot among the roots of the old tree in another corner of the yard. I made no resolutions that day �" I just held on.

The ache is never….

I alter my state of mind regularly to guide me through the years. Our age calls them psychedelics, other eras have used the words elixir, medicine, and mysteries. I don’t claim to understand, but these adulterants give glimpses across the landscapes of time while destroying our ability to remember. They’re cursed tools. During my last trip, years ago, I asked for a symbol to remind me of all my aspirations. And it was in that moment that I first realized what it would be like to die. There will be a damn pain on the left side. It will be my last thought and the last thing I feel.

And now like a smell I can’t imagine or get out, the pain is always there. It radiates from my left jaw down to my shoulder, hip and ankle, forevermore reminding me that....

The ache is neverending.

The third and fourth ones to die were Coco and Melo. I don’t know the order but they both deserve to have their stories told. They were attached at the hip and they had seen too much. As I was struggling to fill their final years with love, hate entered my life through another door. I was unprepared when she took them. All my caution for naught. Events soon became such a whirlwind, I didn’t even get the chance to say goodb-