My Old Pal

Tonight when I came home from work I immediately looked for our dog Lucy to greet me at the door like she had for nearly fifteen years and then I remembered that she wasn't here anymore.  Last Friday, she had crossed over the Rainbow Bridge - she had doggy paddled across the Jordan and reached the shore of her heavenly home. 

In the days since her passing, what I've found is that grief can have a way of focusing you.  Over the last few days I've realized that every moment of the past 15 years spent with her had more meaning than I dared to realize at the time.  Looking back, it is painfully obvious and I now know that I took for granted the love and silly times we shared with her each day.

Now that she's gone, I am beginning to realize that it wasn't just tossing her a ball in the yard, it wasn't just giving her a belly rub at the end of a long day, it wasn't just sharing my goldfish crackers with her, or giving her a sip of my beer.  It was everything.  It was our way of life, every little act and precious moment of the last fifteen years.  She wasn't a pet.  She was family.

In the days since her passing, I've found myself moved to tears and feeling sucker punched by the emotion of how much I wanted her to be here with us.  And while I profoundly feel her absence I know that I really should be focusing on all of the happy times that we shared with her over the years.  So today I am allowing the memory of my old pal to be my companion.  The memory of the love she shared and the joy that she brought into my life will now hopefully temper my sadness.

All of that being said, sometimes it takes the passing of someone you love so deeply to teach you about what really matters in this life.  I admit it, I've cried a lot over the last few days.  When my heart feels pain I cry.  I've come to terms with the fact that my bawling like a baby sometimes is just a reaction to just how fragile life can be.  But I've also learned that pain is necessary.  It's how our hearts measure our life experiences.  I think that pain is the tax we pay on loving and being loved deeply.  To take away the pain that I've felt over the last few days would be an insult to Lucy.  It would deny all that she meant to me.  You see, we hurt to the degree that we cared for the one who is no longer with us.  In some ways, the pain we feel is a momento.  For me now, it's an heirloom of her memory.  But it still hurts.

Be well.

Bill