Cry

Herself speaks once more.

After I received ottoman-shaped dog's diagnosis a few months ago, I had plenty of time to mentally prepare myself for yesterday morning - knowing that Thorbert would eventually hit a medical crisis that would necessitate The End. It was clearly time yesterday, and because I had kept an eye on him so tightly, he had hardly any discomfort right up to the end. I'm glad for that, and relieved.

What I didn't prepare myself for, though, was what it would be like after he was gone. We had him for nearly 10 years, and because I've been telecommuting for even longer than that, he was my constant companion for essentially an entire decade. He made sure I got up promptly in the morning to enjoy breakfast and the cool morning air. He'd lie in my study when I was working, sit on the couch with me when I read a book or took a nap, and follow me around when I did chores. He was my sous-chef in the kitchen -- he'd come running if he heard the sound of the knife on the cutting board.  He curled up with me in my sleeping bag those cold nights when we went camping.  He'd rest on the couch when I used my elliptical trainer, and sleep at the foot of the bed near me at night -- unless Beloved Husband was away, in which case he would delightedly ensconce himself right next to me on Husband's pillow.  He stayed by my side whenever I was sick or sad, offering silent and beautiful comfort. And, of course, he waited right by the front door for me whenever I left the house. 

He was ALWAYS here. 

Now there is this ottoman-shaped-dog-shaped void where he once was, and I have to learn to go about my daily life without his company. I never thought about how it would be to do so. I suppose I'm glad I didn't, though, because to try to anticipate or imagine his absence would have yielded a degree of sorrow that would have been both frightening and nearly impossible to withstand.  And now, it is here:  a nauseating grief that washes over me in salty ocean waves. A wordless roar of loss. 

Faithful, beloved dog.  His unquestioning devotion to me brought me tremendous joy and also broke my heart, every single day. Was I worthy of his affection, his adoration, his attachment?  I don't think anyone can be worthy of such love.  I tried my hardest, though. I hope he knew. 

Humble, devoted, beautiful-hearted Thorbert. I will always remember the love you so freely gave to me. Thank you.

Godspeed.

Do not surrender your grief so quickly
Let it cut more deeply
Let it ferment and season you
As few human or divine ingredients can
Something is missing in my heart tonight
That has made my eyes so soft
And my voice so tender
And my need of God so absolutely clear.

- Hafiz