Life Goes On - Or Does It?

Ten days since I put Suzy down.  And counting.  And crying.  And wishing she were here by my side, like for the past 14 years. But that's not to be.  Now, it's just me.


Rainy morn.  I think of the ground getting soaked where she's buried out back. Think of the blanket she's wrapped in getting all wet and of her gorgeous red fur getting drenched.  I visualize us together just ten short days ago, holding her, telling her I loved her more than  anything else, and bidding her farewell--forever.  And my heart bleeds, and my eyes drip, and my memories quiver in her absence.


I'm not the first person to lose a dog.  Yet it feels like my whole world has collapsed and is missing.  The sound of birds chirping isn't as melodic, the patter of the rain not as soothing, the taste of food less satisfying and the encounters with friends and family less meaningful.  Life is lost.  Living is hard.

Thoughts of Suzy dominate my mind, photos surround my every shelf, counter, window sill & desk. She is with me every waking moment.  I need her spirit, her gentle face, her soothing presence-- even in her absence. 


It's a feeling you can share with a friend, confide to a therapist or sense in your gut, yet an experience you can't run away from or try to downplay---ever.  Maybe for-ever. The best I can do is keep going on, living my life as best I can, knowing that Suzy's spirit will be a part of me all the way.  And that she wouldn't want me to suffer.  She would want me to move on & maybe even think of getting another pup some day.  She would want me to be happy.  And it is in this knowing that I take another sad step forward.  And another.  And another. . .