Remnants of a crazy little bird’s life are everywhere.
Open a drawer, find a stash of things waiting for their turn to be chewed.
Open another drawer, find a metal stick that fruit and veggies could be skewered on and hung in his cage.
Open the freezer, find his seeds.
Open the crisper and find a bag with part of an apple and half an orange….remnants of his daily meals.
Open the pantry, find the silicone ice cube trays that I used to freeze daily portions of a cooked mixture of pasta, beans, rice, seeds, fruit, and vegetables.
Look across the room and see his huge cage….which we have yet to be able to empty and decide what to do with.
Gizmo is everywhere.
Gizmo is nowhere.
He was always there…..and now…he’s just….not. And I don’t know how to resolve that in my heart.
We come home and the house is empty and quiet. There is no need to leave the radio on now.
He is not there to hear the first thing we call out every time we come in the door… “Hey Giz!!“
There is no “Get up sleepyheads” sonar from downstairs when we lay in bed too long in the morning.
There are no whistles.
Kirk reminded me today that I only learned to whistle because of Gizmo. I had steadfastly held that I couldn’t whistle. I learned….not well, but enough to have little whistle communication with Gizmo.
The house is dark when we walk in, because his light is no longer on, it’s not necessary anymore.
Grief is everywhere…..
You were a superstar Gizmo….and now you are stardust 💔
