Time Keeps Moving and the Lessons I Gained

Memories of your last day mingle with your first day in our lives.

I can’t explain the gulf between life and death except that there is no bridge. Kind-hearted people have sent me the rainbow bridge poems, and I haven’t read them. My brain didn’t want to read more of what I know, it just felt like empty words on a shattered path. To me, the path is empty and void.

We can’t change yesterday and today started whether we wanted it to or not. That’s the way life rolls. Backwards isn’t part of the equation. Our thoughts filled with missing your cute nose and dark chocolate eyes, or little snorts and moans when you tried to get comfortable.

The mailman brought a card from the veterinarian and inside held paw prints, a nose print, and a heart full of seeds to plant so we can have flowers to think of you this coming spring. Tears of course, erupted between my daughter and I. Its the little things, like cleaning hair from the dog brush: and there is a bit of white fluff. My daughter sobs, “Why didn’t I cut some of her hair to keep?” The things we don’t think about at the time. A question I can’t answer.

Your daughter, Phoebe, has to go outside and every time my heart remembers. Every venture outside seems to remind me of how hard it was for you to walk. I started sitting in different chairs around the patio, to get a different view. Today, six days later Phoebe finally stopped sniffing where you last went to the bathroom. The rain probably helped.

I hate laying here because I’m left open to the loss. During the day I can accomplish things and stay active. Avoidance of the thoughts, and feelings comes from staying busy.

The first night was hell. In my bed, I didn’t want to be touched or listen to anything. I didn’t want to close my eyes and have day two arrive. And now, we venture toward day seven. One week on Friday you will be absent from our lives. Time marches forward, no matter how bad we want it to stop.

As hard as it is to accept the pain and loss, I know I will. Because that’s what happens. We don’t get to choose our forward, we head in the direction. Time leads us.

We can’t take back what we don’t give yesterday, and we can’t change what we decided. The flow of life meanders the the valleys like a river of tears, filled by the losses we accrued. Time gave us the abundance of sorrow. The longer we live the more sorrow we pass, and the more memories we hold.

As often as we release the sadness, the freer we become. The less we ruminate on what we cannot control, the more peaceful we feel.

The dance between acceptance and honoring our pain is part of the new way of life, forced onto us by fate’s steel, cold, grip.

Our day one came to a close. Each day thereafter carries with it the slamming of eternities door. The vacancy in our home feels like a black hole we try to ignore and as we fight the vortex, our last act is to fall into a fitful sleep interrupted with flashes of memories. Still, days later, my sleep isn’t restful. I almost hear your little snorts or your small toes tapping on the linoleum.

I don’t want to ignore the feelings or thoughts, just as much as I don’t want to pretend they are not here. What I feel is real and to walk the path of mourning, I know I have to fully feel and remember so I embody the gift of your precious doggy life.

You were a giver.

The only thing you took, really were treats before your final day arrived when you took a part of our heart with you. Though you cannot read this, nor can anyone read it to you, and maybe someone out there might understand a bit of the pain of losing a beloved furry friend, I can write it for you. I can write this for the person who comes after me so they feel supported and I can write it for the person who has experienced the same loss. You know. You understand.

This past week changed my world.

Its made me cherish a few extra doggy hugs from Phoebe, and patience with her silly antics. There isn’t any wet spots to clean up or any bits of food from where you ate, and I realize now how much you were a part of our day. Rest in peace, Peppermint. You will remain forever in our hearts.

~Just a thought by Pamela

—

This post was previously published on Pamela J. Nikodem’s blog.

***

Join The Good Men Project as a Premium Member today.

All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.

A $50 annual membership gives you an all access pass. You can be a part of every call, group, class and community.
A $25 annual membership gives you access to one class, one Social Interest group and our online communities.
A $12 annual membership gives you access to our Friday calls with the publisher, our online community.