To this day, as I write down these words, I feel the horrible pain of inadequacy, not knowing what was wrong or how to help her. The tears flow freely down my cheeks, and I am not a person who easily cries. As I held her close to me, next to my skin, under my shirt, I prayed to God for help. As I drove home, a short 10 minutes away, Willow died in my arms. To this day, I remember an ambulance passing by us and me thinking to myself, "God, if the person in that vehicle needs to live as Willow dies, so be it!" I will accept whatever plans you have for me and mine. As I thought these thoughts I felt Willow's spirit leaving her body. I pulled into my driveway... barely able to see through the tears. I slowly walked into my home, now feeling so very empty. I carried Willow's lifeless body, rocking it as I walked, for hours before I could finally set her gently down. I found a piece of black angora I had knit, left over from a sweater I had made for my mom, and wrapped it lovingly around her. Then I called a close friend at her work to relay the pain I was feeling. I then called the vet's to let them know Willow had died and that I wanted to arrange for an autopsy. They told me to come back in as soon as I felt comfortable driving. As I paced the floor, still holding Willow close to me, I vaguely envisioned a documentary I had seen of a mother macaque or gorilla (or both) caring their dead baby for days. At that moment, I truly knew exactly how those mothers felt. I never wanted to put Willow down, not even for a moment.
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