There are moments in life when all we can do is love and trust.
This is the story of one I could not hold, could not touch, could not save… but never stopped loving.
When you are powerless to help a being in danger, when all you can do is witness their suffering, something breaks inside of you. And from that brokenness, a deeper kind of love is born.
It was early January, a gray afternoon in the city. Rain was falling relentlessly, and cars rushed by in every direction.
We were waiting at a red light, warm and quiet in the car. Soft music was playing in the cozy vehicle, and I was resting, with my body being silent and still.
And then, I saw him.
A young opossum, small and soaked, suddenly ran into the street with ten lanes of relentless traffic, and no one to see him.
A tiny shadow darted forward, scrambling between stopped vehicles, vanishing between tires and steel.
My heart leapt forward before my body could. I reached for the door, but it was too late. The light still stayed red. The rain fell in sheets, blurring the world into streaks of motion and grief. And I could only sit and watch as my heart broke open.
That night, I grieved a life I never held.
I still saw his drenched small body in my mind, his face, his wide dark eyes. I placed seeds in a small orange bowl on my desk and whispered prayers. I sat in vigil beside a knitted opossum toy that my daughter had kissed and brought to comfort me.
The little opossum felt more like a dream, or a visitation, like a spiritual encounter, distant, fleeting and sacred.
I am still trying to understand what happened and how this moment has changed me.
I silently gathered a box, a soft cloth, and gloves. I prepared myself to return to the road, to find him, to offer care, to lift his body from the road and give him dignity.
I returned the next morning, my heart full and mind almost ready.
But he was gone.
There was no sign of him. No trace, no body. Just rain-soaked pavement and the memory of movement.
This was a strange moment of relief and fear of the unknown at once. I had to learn how to trust that the Divine would do what I could not.
And then came surrender.
I didn’t find him.
Maybe he made it.
Maybe someone else helped.
Maybe he passed gently into the unseen.
I gently gave him to the sky, the rain, and to God.
Some souls we love only through witness.
Some beings we serve only through trust.
He never had an earthly name.
But our lives touched in that moment, and the heart remembers.
To the one I could not save:
I see you.
I remember you.
I trust.
May all beings, seen and unseen, be held in love.
The little opossum in the rain will always live in my heart.
Thank you.