“Ringo moves on.” By Tami Boehle-Satterfield

Ringo
OBITUARY 07/10/14

Oh, my heavy heart.

My dear friend, Ringo, departed.

Gone from this world on the energy of this full moon in Capricorn, he takes with him my love and leaves me our sweet memories, now blunt and thorny – bittersweet. How fitting — he was an old goat.

A fine creature. A noble, four legged, hoofed beast with the patience and benevolence of a saint. He was friendly and generous with his time. Anyone who knew him said so. It was true. It was the truth of him. He was a beautiful, old, charitable soul.

I will sorely miss his company. Lumbering my way, his head lifting to meet my approach. The look of curiosity in his wild eyes, meeting me half way, walking all the way at my side, chewing his cud seeming to mull over my mood. I will miss rubbing the brittle old scratchy hairs, white with age, on the sides of his face. I will miss nearly kissing his black goat lips, the temptation if it weren’t for the green goo in his teeth. I will miss his lordly belching and pissing, his physiological response to my presence – his way of substantiating rapport, teaching me that we were in fact similar and not different – both tethered souls to ever-aging bodies. I long one more look at his broken polled horn that gave the impression of a skewed halo. One last tug at the tuft of hairs bearded at his chin. What I would do for one last time of sharing peppermint candies.

The last time I did see him, he looked me straight in my eyes. It seemed odd, him looking straight through me. He looked straight into my eyes and I misunderstood him. “Are you okay?” I asked. He held my gaze. I mistook what he said, didn’t know he was looking past the old body of me and into my soul. I didn’t know he was saying goodbye. It doesn’t make any difference that I am a slow learner. He knew. He knew I would figure it out.

How lucky am I to have known him – to have studied and practiced lessons of life under his sage guidance?

May he rest in peace. Ringo, the last of the bad boys.

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