Death of a ladybug

This little wooden lady bug used to look quite sprightly with its white body, a bright red nose, cute grin and lovely wooden polka dot wings. Around it's neck was a spinner with red with white polka dot plastic fans that was cause it buzz in the wind with joy. It sat happily in my front garden bed but now it's happiest days have long gone. I haven't been in my front garden for a long time but it caught my attention when I went out this morning and it brought a tear to my eye.


Okay.. that's an understatement. It made me cry... and I still am.


One of the biggest challenges faced by ts people is trying to deal or cope with loss. That may be the loss of friends, the loss of jobs or the loss of our home. But those things embody the arguably more important abstract things like loss of hopes and dreams, loss of drive and inspiration and loss of relationships. The harsh thing is that we are not the only ones affected, but all those for whom we are more than just an anecdote, are also affected. For me, knowing that I caused the same pain that I am feeling to somebody else is like another sword through my soul. 


So I wasn't weeping for the ladybug even though I can be anthropomorphist. Rather it was the association of the relationship with the person who bought it. We had shared experiences in the past and we had dreams, hopes and plans for the future. There were things we thought we had but, although one should not count their chickens before they are hatched, I was in denial about the big transsexual chicken that was about to step on all the eggs. So now our hopes, plans and dreams are lying broken in the dirt, much like the ladybug. And that makes me cry.