Harley James’ Transition Day

Beautiful and sad and I think that was my greatest lesson thus far in life.

That these two things could coexist and that while one did not negate the other - that they allowed us to enter that space knowing that love is both of those things. That nothing lasts forever, but that when we approach a transition, we will find that this balance of emotions, will lead us feeling more settled, more grateful and more content. 

I wrote about Harley so much when we navigated each illness and ups and downs. I always had people worry about how I would do without him - but my career centres around end of life and chronic disease and I continually worked within myself of how I would approach this with Harley. 

 So we celebrated by a fire, laughing and eating and drinking.

Happy to be all together finally, on a beautiful summer night. All of our relationships had been strained due to covid, work, living together during a pandemic and navigating how these relationships evolve when faced with so many unknowns. We all crawled into bed, happy and full. Distracted enough to let us all sleep easily through the night.

In the morning the starlings returned. The day before everyone arrived, Harley, Charlie and I took a stroller walk down the road and heard them in the distance. We returned home and when we decided to have more outdoor time - I opened the door to a recently deceased starling. Right on the front step.

Death, right at the door. I walked around with it’s still warm body in my hand, not knowing what to do. I finally decided to keep it safe from Charlie - I wrapped it in hosta leaves and adorned it with flowers. I set it in the tree to keep him safe until the next day. My aunt called it, Harley's partner in departure. 

The starlings came when we were younger, the day before our family dog was hit and killed on the road in front of our house. I have always associated this with a bad sign, but it helped reinforce my decision. That they too knew something was departing it’s physical self. 

The next day was somber but my sister, her partner and best friend dug a hole. It didn’t come easy, but we found a spot facing the field with the best sunset view. It allowed me time with Harley. He snacked a little bit but mainly he slept. No walking happened that day and I think his soul knew it was time to rest.

 I can’t remember much aside from crying and breathing and uttering I love you my beautiful boy over and over while his breath quickened (just like you said it may). I remember almost giggling because I thought he was gone but one more deep breath happened. He was the comeback kid and it was his true fashion up until the end. 

Adorning him with my evil eye necklace, his sweater that my sister knitted the winter before, my brother's necklace and flowers from mom's garden. I swear she cut down every single one to prepare his bed. Through tears and tears and tears we all agreed that this was the best way to honour him. 

After he passed and you left, my mom said ‘did you hear the train?’ And both Ashleigh and Maggie said ‘oh my god yes’. To which I replied ‘but there aren’t any train tracks near here?’ It was almost that he got picked up for his new adventure. It still gives me full body shivers thinking about it. 

We spent a couple more hours with him. We moved him to his resting spot, poured some more wine and I read a pagan poem 

‘run the fields of summerland, and frolic in the sun. You’ve earned the right of freedom; your work on Earth is done…my love for you will never end. Enjoy your time in Summerland, my faithful loving friend.’

 A honey locust tree was planted in his spot. I hope it survives the winter with its roots wrapped around him. His headstone was the head of a shovel that snapped when we tried to dig in a prior place. We moved over a cement bench and continue to spend time there whenever we come home.

Harley James

2006 - 09/03/2021