The Gloaming

Gloaming, or twilight, the time after sunset and before dark.


This is a gift from me to my partner first and foremost.  For all those tears we didn't watch each other cry.


After that though, it belongs to anyone and everyone who has ever felt the pain from letting a pet go, though they knew it was kindest and best.


With special thanks to Forest Villa Animal Clinic in Dallas, Texas.


Baby Kitty

The sunlight was less yesterday; as is the case with all days that lead  through Autumn  into Winter.
The shadows though, cast by that lessening light, also grew longer yesterday than the day before.


We grow old to enjoy these days, and knowledge of approaching death is the gold we pay for our time in the sun; but the cost grows more dear, day by day.  In the ending days of our years, do what we may our purse will finally empty; as sure as night will consume the day.


The gloaming comes though, and grows longer as day gives way to night.  Winter approaches as that which is, becomes that which was, but never more shall be.


Within the gloaming live each day those things which in time must pass away.  Watch the sunlight fade to night and in the gloaming we may see that while passed away, lives yet still, as light gives way.


I promised her one more day in the sun though little I acknowledged I promised more to myself than to her.  How little sunlight had we yet to share.


Baby Kitty went to rest today during the hours of light. We will watch in the gloaming  this night for what we hope to be her sight.


On her last day she wanted only to be with us as she led me about the backyard garden one last time, as she followed the dappled patches of sunlight moving 'cross the yard.  We wandered amongst the Wandering Jew, through the yet green leaves of the Bleeding Hearts, below the Morning Glory vine, whose flowers respect the night with faces covered to fading light.


We stopped a polite amount of time to pay respect to pets who had gone before.  But, finally left behind us the unused doghouse in which now only memories of our dogs remain.  It remains and won't be given away because it's absence would be to us like missing memories.


We met the cat which lives now on our porch.  He was kindness in it's purest form; approaching once to touch Baby Kitty face to face, as if to acknowledged her desire to leave without a fight.  He then placed himself on his side along the walk we must pass on our return trip, like cars that stop on the roadside as a hearse goes by.  We ended our walk at familiar territory - Baby's universe. The1,700 square feet of our home, wherein were contained all that Baby Kitty knew as safe.


In the end all she wanted was relief from suffering through the comfort of being with us, just as she had when she was scared by unfriendly dogs or overly-friendly cats.  Or, when the house was cold and she wanted to sleep in the crook of an arm under the blankets.  Or, when for some few days she was alone in the house, awaiting our return to her world to meet us without fail at the door with the simple expectation that before anything else we pick her up.


But this was relief we had not the power to give.  How small it must have seemed to her what little comfort we had to give.  No ability to relieve the suffering of being old and feeble, to relieve the pain she felt, or any of the indignities of a feline in decline.  So, we put her to rest while in my arms and watched her peaceful passage into a death she had no knowledge of.


'Tis said that all cats are grey at night.  And, so they are. Because, light is not all there is of the day any more than dark is all there is of night.  Neither day or night reflect all that each day encompasses.  But the gloaming is both day and night and in those short moments we may still see all of that we wish could be.


Tonight we shall watch in the gloaming for a short-hair, domestic Tortoise-shell coated cat, low to the ground on slight legs that no longer stumble, but move with stately grace though the garden that was our place.


We give you here the English translations of two of  Richard Strauss' Vier letzte Lieder (Four Last Songs.) and the poem "It Is Fairest In The Gloaming Air," by the Swedish poet Par Lagerkvist.

September

The garden is in mourning.
Cool rain seeps into the flowers.
Summertime shudders,
quietly awaiting his end.

Golden leaf after leaf falls
from the tall acacia tree.
Summer smiles, astonished and feeble,
at his dying dream of a garden.

For just a while he tarries
beside the roses, yearning for repose.
Slowly he closes
his weary eyes.

At Sunset

We have gone through sorrow and joy
hand in hand;
Now we can rest from our wandering
above the quiet land.

Around us, the valleys bow;
the air is growing darker.
Just two skylarks soar upwards
dreamily into the fragrant air.

Come close to me, and let them flutter.
Soon it will be time for sleep.
Let us not lose our way
in this solitude.

O vast, tranquil peace,
so deep at sunset!
How weary we are of wandering---
Is this perhaps death?

It Is Fairest In The Gloaming Air

It is fairest in the gloaming air.
All the love the heavens bare
is collected in a dusky light
above the earth,
above the city light.

All is love, caressed by hands.
The Lord himself will vanish distant strands.
All is near, all is far away.
All is given
man for today.

All is mine, and all shall be taken away from me,
within moments all shall be taken away from me.
The trees, the clouds, the earth I face.
I shall wander—
alone, without a trace.