Life goes on...

Robbie and Ghilley serve as good reminders to me that life does go on.

It has been a difficult week.  I think I was a bit numb last Monday (December 14) until about 3pm in the afternoon.  It was about that time that the loss of my superstar hit me with full force and I realized how much I would miss his presence.

No, I would not miss the ailing dog, I would miss that mushy morning boy rolling over for a scratch on his belly and dutifully kicking a hind leg when I hit a sweet spot.  Robbie does not have sweet spots like that and I have yet to find Ghilley's.

I will miss the frequently annoying but endearing "singing" that my boys engaged in, often on command but sometimes not.  Robbie would always run from wherever he was to sit next to Duff to form a duo.  Now, it seems, Garfunkel cannot sing without Simon.  I did get all three going when Duff was still around, but Ghilley was still finding her voice and right now, it is a little too coloratura for me and she is not Sarah Brightman.

I catch myself feeling bad that Duff does not get to share the little taste of my cereal in the morning or dinner at night.

The walks in the neighborhood, right now, do not bring back too many recent memories as Duff was not a fan of that in the past 6 months to a large degree.  But, when spring arrives and I decide to go on a marathon walk, up to Wilmette or even Winnetka, I will think of him because the last time we stretched our legs for a 5-12 mile walk, he was there and loved it.

I know time will heal the hole I feel inside.  It will lessen.  But now, I miss my old boy.

Last week went okay.  By Tuesday evening I actually felt relief.  I was relieved that I did not prolong any suffering for my 1st baby.  I was relieved that the immediate anguish over his situation was gone.

I sailed into the past weekend, without him, feeling kind of strange but otherwise okay.

Then, Monday (December 21st) hit and I felt exhausted and bereft.  Depression for the day was my friend as I was caught off-guard by the feeling.  Oh, I remember feeling such sadness a few days after I lost my dad that I did not want to get out of bed so I stayed there.  This was similar though perhaps not quite as severe.  His ashes, contained in a nice wooden urn with room for a picture had arrived.  I was at the vet to drop off a Christmas card with a "thank you" when Hope met me to re-deliver "Duff".  She had picked him up for me earlier that day.  I shared a bit of what I was feeling and she said it is normal.  I know my older sister, Anne, felt the same thing almost 2 years ago, having to part with her beautiful 7 year old Cavalier to cancer.

I returned home to have Robbie bound out of the crate and wiggle madly at me.  Ghilley burst out, grabbed a toy and bounded at me to play tug with her.  A reminder was placed by my kids, "life is good Mom.  We love you and are happy you are home.  Let's play!"