That Kind of Control

Late last night, as I sat in front of the rabbit hutch, trying hopelessly to avoid another breakdown, something completely out of the ordinary happened.  Hannah, now the sole occupant of the lower bunk, hopped out and into my lap for the first time since she's been with me.  She stretched herself up to rub her nose against my cheek.

It's okay to be sad.  I miss him being here, too. 

It was enough to shatter what little was left of that tattered dam. I burst into tears.  And tumbling along that gushing stream came a hundred toxic what-ifs.  What if it had something to do with the new food I started feeding them (it was organic--I thought it would be better)?  What if I didn't keep the temperature in the house warm enough?  What if having dogs in the house made him too nervous?  What if I accidentally poisoned him with something I cleaned with?

Will you stop that?, Hannah interrupted.  YOU didn't cause this.  

"I'm just so worried it was something I did or didn't do that made Georgie sick."

You don't have THAT kind of control, you know.

"But..."

He had his own path.  It wasn't your fault.  It wasn't anyone's fault.  

"But..."


We're born.  We live.  We die.  And we go on.  That's just how it is.  That's how it's meant to be.  Nothing you do can ever change it.   

"But..."

And you think I'M the controlling one?

It was impossible not to laugh at that.  Oh, Hannah and her perfectly timed bluntness.

That's better, she said, licking the salt from my tears off my hand.

"It's just so hard when you leave.  Especially the cute ones like you and George."

Well you should see him now!  He's quite a sprightly bunny, if I do say so.  

"Actually, I did see him earlier.  At least I think so.  I've never tried reaching an animal on the other side before today so I'm not sure if..."

You did!  He told me.  He says you saw how happy he was and he told you not to cry for him and now you've already forgotten.

"He did say that."

So why were you crying?

"Hey!  You just said it was okay to be sad." 

This is not about you being sad.  This is about you not trusting what you CAN control.

"But I thought I can't control..."

You can control your thoughts. 

"But my thoughts won't bring George back."

No, but they will bring you back to George, silly.  That is, IF you choose to believe in your ability to go there and stop questioning and doubting yourself at every turn.

I did start to feel a sense of relief at that.  "Thanks, Hannah." 


See?  And then you won't need to be so sad!

Finished with her impromptu counseling session, Hannah bounced her way back to the hutch.  She too wanted control of what little she could have control over. 

That's all I have for you right now.  Goodnight.