You died on a Tuesday

I am reading the post I wrote just four days ago and realizing how quickly life can take a turn.  Two days ago, the sweet softly snoring bulldog, Pete, had to be put to sleep.    It happened so quickly.  Tumors. Cancer.  A decision I knew some distant day I would have to make, but never ever wanted to.  He wasn't himself and was in such a lot of pain, so he made the decision a little easier for us.  He put on that strong confident face he used when he wanted his way.  This time it was no different.  He went peaceful, with us there with him, stroking his face and telling him go sleep sleep Pete Pete like we did every night.  This time he didn't get his favorite little nigh-night cookies to go with it.  Eternal rest.

We have spent the last two days lost, crying, wishing anything to have him back.  Wishing for one more time to play ball with him in the yard, one more time to see his sweet little almond soulful eyes looking lovingly up at me.  Hell, I even want to hear one of his funny little airy farts!  He was full of noise, personality and life.  You knew when he was grouchy, you knew when he was happy, you knew when he was schmoopy and just wanted to follow you around and sit as close as possible to you and rest his head on your knee.   How do we get used to life without him?   It seems quiet, empty and colorless.  He was our comic relief, buddy, baby.   I have never cried this much for anything else in my life.  Two days ago I couldn't even fathom how we would heal from this.

But life is miraculous.  With each good cry, and each conversation between Bev and I about all his little quirks and what we miss about him, each time we realize that Pete is still adding to our lives by the lessons his passing is teaching us, we get closer to healing and becoming whole again.  

Last night I sat on a big rock in the middle of the Green River that runs near our house.  I took comfort in the gentle sounds of the current, realized that just like this water running past me, that life goes on, that love is strong and regardless of large stones and obstacles of time, space, loss, that it continues.  I prayed to my Grandma that she meet Pete where ever they both are, that she keep him well, feed him ice cream (which he loved).  I know she would love him.  I asked her also to let us know she has him and that he's ok. 

Today, on the way home from work, we saw a hawk.  We saw him in the same place yesterday.  The weird thing about where we live now, we rarely see hawks.  The hawk is special to us.  A guardian, a guide, a messenger.  Today, that hawk flew along side our car and we instantly knew that it was a message from Pete or my Grandma, that he was ok, that everything was going to be ok.

We will have another dog one day.  But he died this Tuesday and for now he's the only one we want.

Peter Louise Judd
July 2001-August 16, 2011
May you rest in Peace and remain in our hearts always.

A Dream Realized

It's been since May that I last posted.   At that time I was impatiently waiting to find a new job that would allow us to move to Vermont.  Something that we have been dreaming of and planning for over 6 years time.  Not two weeks after that post, I got that new job and two weeks after that we moved to Vermont.  I love the new job and the company I work for.  We love our new apartment and the gorgeous property that it is nestled on.  I feel so very blessed that all our hoping and praying and hard work paid off.

Today I am serenaded by the rain falling softly on the tin roof of our studio and the quiet cheep of birds muffled by the rain.  The clouds hang low, draping themselves over the tree branches and rolling curves of the green mountains that surround us here.  I sit here comforted with the soft snores of our bulldog, Pete, as he naps after a weekend of activity.  The light of day is coming to a close and it glows gray green from the overcast sky and the lush grass meadows, tall trees and wild vegetation that makes up our property.   I feel calm and content.  I feel that I am truly and thankfully in my most peaceful spot.