we open with a
familiar scene: the deer, standing alone in the deep, dark forest at night. it
is stunned. struck yet again by another headlight—a familiar one, at that. mind
going mile a minute, heart beating twice as fast, but all limbs not moving an
inch.
the deer has
finally said goodbye to the headlight of 2013. it was not a conventional
farewell that involved tears, hugs and false promises to stay in touch. the
goodbye took the form of a question unanswered—a metaphorical goodbye of sorts;
an end to a madness that lasted more than it should.
the deer’s
initial response was to make sense of what happened. to make the loss a
positive one. a learning experience. instead of mourning the loss and shedding
much-kept tears, the deer skipped (as it was wont to do) to lessons that could
be learned from this two-year hit and
run. it told other deers it was okay. it even told itself, everything was okay.
turns out it
wasn’t. and this realization crept up to the deer quietly, but hit the deer
suddenly.
the deer, after
much introspection (yes, deers introspect),
realized that it should have mourned its loss properly. it should have stopped
and cried, instead of going on with life. it should have
accepted the simple but bitter truth that the loss, although foreseen, still
hurt. the deer should have grieved.
the headlight is long
gone by now, leaving the deer to handle the sadness that accompanies being left
alone, and the loneliness in accepting that not all dreams are realized despite
how much hardwork was put in.
contrary to other scientific findings, deers can grieve. and they should.
contrary to other scientific findings, deers can grieve. and they should.
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Unfortunately, other entries in the Deer Struck by Headlights series are now gone because Multiply closed down. I hope to find inspiration to continue this very interesting series here.
