Goodbye, Skips.
Skips was a gerbil. He had lovely sable fur and he loved to have it petted. He was quite affectionate for such a timid creature. Although I did most of his feeding, cleaning, exercise, and socialization, he wasn't my gerbil. Skips belonged to my 10-year-old stepson. Still, when Skips died, he died so tucked under my shirt, cradled against my heart so he would have warmth and love as he took his last breath.
My stepson was still at his biomother's house when this happened, so I put Skips into the freezer to wait for his burial. It took about a month because my stepson didn't want to face it and his father didn't want to deal with the messy emotions involved. Eventually, however, I put my foot down for Skips' dignity and for my freezer. He didn't take up very much space, but the other adults were getting a little unnerved by his tiny body tucked in by the frozen blueberries.
I sat with my stepson and we discussed two important things: how to treat people and animals while they're still alive; and how to treat people and animals when they've died. For the first part, we discussed why it's so important to spend time with the people and animals you love, because you're building memories for both of you, and that is how each of us lives on. No memories mean you didn't spend time with them, and that only leads to regret. I know these lessons come with age, experience, and from within, but this is something I grew up with and never stop trying to impress upon others.
For the second part we actually discussed funerals. Keep in mind we have had other animal companions die, but this was the first time he'd been able to participate in the burial. I explained what the purpose of a funeral or memorial service is, how to write a eulogy, and why placement of the burial site matters to the living. I gave him the assignment of writing down three things: where he wanted to bury Skips; how he wanted to bury him (e.g., wrapped in a shroud or with a toy and food); and five things he would always remember about his gerbil. He cried quite a bit and it took him two days to write everything.
Skips was buried on a foggy, drizzly Sunday afternoon. My partner dug a hole at the base of a juniper tree just outside my stepson's bedroom. The spot was chosen because of its proximity, but also because the juniper is an evergreen. My stepson filled the bottom of the hole with fresh bedding, then I placed Skips into the ground because my stepson isn't quite ready to handle dead bodies. He did the rest, though, arranging a handful of gerbil food, some yogurt drop treats, and a wooden chew block around his little body before filling the hole with dirt and placing a big rock over the top.
He didn't read his eulogy out loud; we simply let him sit there and be sad for as long as he needed. Then he cried again while his papa held and comforted him. When he was ready to head back inside, he looked up and me and asked if he had done good, if he had shown Skips the right respect. I leaned closer and said, "I'm very proud of you. The question is, do you feel like you showed him the right respect? Do you feel like you did it right?" It took him a moment to think about it before he nodded. "Then that's all that matters."
Goodbye, Skips. Mama loved you to your very last breath and will keep you in her heart and memories with the others.
