Waves of grief and gratitude have crashed down on me over the last several days. Yet I looked into her eyes and I knew she understood and that we would both be ok.
Like every soul-shaking loss I’ve endured in life, I just need time. Time does not heal, but it helps soften the blow…a little bit…day by day.
I’m normally frustrated by my mind. I have an awful memory. But in times like this, I need to wrap myself up in my natural tendency to forget the details over time like it’s a security blanket protecting me from painful flashbacks for which I am not prepared.
Trying to stop the tears proves as futile as trying to hold onto her forever.
Sixteen years. I was blessed to have my pug, Murphy, in my life…and in my family’s life…for 16 whole years. She started off with just me and Ryan. Throughout the course of her lifetime, she gained a brotha-from-anotha-mother canine companion named Eightball (who passed away on June 3, 2010 and now waits for me on this side of the Rainbow Bridge) as well as two human brothers (now 14 and 12 years old) and a human sister (now 7 years old).
My kids have never known life without her. Hell, it’s hard for ME to remember life without her…and even harder to imagine life moving forward without her.
It is clear to me that my heart has a tendency to latch onto and love those who snore the loudest: My grandma Peterson, Murphy, and Ryan.
(I’m doing my best to remember to laugh.)
She was not in pain. She simply had finished her journey here. She was tired. I am a lot to take care of, after all.
Dogs love with every bone in their body. I know they’re not for everyone and I never try to convince a non-dog person that they should change their mind. What I will say is “think of something in your life that you love so much that it’s incomparable to anything else.” That’s how my dogs have made me feel over the years. I couldn’t ever fully pay back their love, but I tried.
I could rehash 1,000 stories about Murphy, but I feel like pictures reveal more than any words ever could.
My best friend is gone. But not forgotten. And I have to believe that one day I will see her again.
October 4, 1999 – March 1, 2016
Written by Heidi Woodard