Reflections of Heaven
I watch him slowly navigate the old wooden back porch steps, restraining my instinct to reach out and steady his shaky form; he insists he can manage. With a cane in his right hand and his left on the rail he gingerly places each foot on the stairs and bites the outline of his bottom lip as the pain vibrates up and ripples throughout his body like breaking glass then continues to shatter. He reaches the sidewalk and shuffles like an old man across the yard to sit on the patio bench.
He gives me a nod and I open the screen door allowing his four-footed ‘children’ to flow around me like a gold and ebony river. They race toward their savior, this humble man, who brought them back from the dust; the unwanted, homeless and hungry; the strays. Happy barks and yips catapult through the springtime air as the pups vie to be first at his feet. And then Tony does something, something I’ve seen a thousand times but still holds a bit of mystery for me. He casually raises his arm and with the slightest flip of his wrist holds his hand up, palm facing out and the dogs immediately fall to the ground, quiet and still.
One by one he calls them and traces the roundness of velvety heads with skeletal fingers while leaning down to whisper in pert attentive ears and they chuff joyfully, conversing in a language only they and Tony understand. It is a moment so private I look away until I hear him send them off to play with a gentle pat on ample rumps.
I see a smile begin to bloom on his lips, softening the hard planes of his face and hollowness of his cheeks, as he watches Lucky scout the perimeter of the yard looking for a loose board in the fence. He knows Lucky wants nothing more than to escape in the hopes of finding a lonesome female to romance. He glances at Kelly-Bop rolling beneath the Elderberry tree, oblivious to the splashes of red and squawk of the Cardinals as they swoop and dive trying to shoo her away from their nests. There was a time when her antics caused his baritone laughter to cover us like a blanket, familiar and warm but not today, cancer had crowded out his laughter along with good blood cells.
He turns to take in Nighty-Girl and his eyes deepen with affection. If he has a favorite, she would be the one. She is currently enchanted by bumblebees dancing on clover and would remain that way until the moon becomes nestled in the evening sky if he allowed it. And finally No Nopes, his miracle dog (but weren’t they all?), physically blind, but with an all seeing heart leans against Tony’s bad leg, the one swollen to twice it’s normal size due to the effects of chemo, remains sentinel, protective of his master.
And just when I think I’m witnessing his final farewell to his beloved companions, he turns to me and says, “Love….”, while raising his arms like a maestro , indicating, the only family he’s ever known as they frolic in the yard, "love is a reflection of heaven.” And I understand that death is not final and we all shine on.
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