The L-Word

I was re-united with my furry son in a cedar box as I picked him up from the vet today.  It was so hard to contain my emotions when I saw the box, and all the ladies at the front office were so sympathetic.  They even unexpectedly provided me with Qori's ink paw print.  I had also received a condolence card from them in the mail.  This vet was so on top of the little things that count. 

It feels so good to have Qori back with me, but the emotion I feel is still so raw.  I walk around feeling a sting in my heart.  It's hard for me to say anything out loud about Qori - which leads me to my Ruffians.

The day that Qori passed, I was just too emotional to talk with the children.  My husband had to pick them up after work, and bring them home to me.  They came home and hardly noticed that Qori was not there.  This was better for me, because I would've just broken down if they asked me anything anyway.  So it was ignorance on both parties that got us through the first night.  The second night, I continued avoiding the topic altogether by pretending that everything was normal, same with the third - until it became a comfortable, complacent trend for me.

The first time Diego even questioned anything about Qori, I was in the middle of cooking for a big party for my father's birthday.  We were expecting company in an hour, and out of the blue Diego asked, "Where's Qori?"  I was stunned and scared all at once, and all I could muster was an 'I don't know.'

And so for 2 weeks I've been dodging reality and not facing tough questions.  But today, not only was I re-united with Qori which was very moving, but Diego also moved me deeply.

We were in his speech therapist's office.  His speech therapist was trying to get him to say L-words, which we've been working on for months.

"Diego, say lunch"

"wrunch" he said.

"Good try."

She looked at another picture in her book.  "Diego, this is a leash.  Do you know what a leash is?" she asked.  "Do you have a dog?"

This set Diego off into a mini-monologue.  "Yesterday, I was with Qori," he said.  Because to him - if it's not today or tomorrow, then it was yesterday whether it was a week ago or a year ago, or actually yesterday.

Then he ran on in a few sentences talking about Qori.  Honestly, I can't remember exactly what he said, but it was nothing moving.  It was just facts, like Qori liked to chase balls or that they liked to chase each other in the backyard.  Then he paused for a minute and said, "I miss Qori."

Those three words were all it took to move me.  At that moment, I thought of Diego and Qori's relationship and a different L-word:  Love.  Before this, Diego had never voiced any emotion or even consciousness at the fact that Qori's been gone.  I thought he probably just didn't care or notice.  I couldn't expect my kids to have the same dog-obsessed gene as me.  I had been going on as if this was just MY loss, because Qori was my dog.  I see now, that Qori also had a deep impact on the kids, no matter how well they are able to understand or express it at their tiny little ages.

On the drive back home, Diego brought Qori up again.  He remembered the bleeding.  He told me that Qori is sleeping at the doctors.  He asked me 'what we were going to do with Qori'.  He asked me again,

"Mama, what are we going to to with QORI!?  What are we going to do!?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said as I froze.  I don't know what to do.  I don't know what to say.

I know I'm going to have to tell him something soon.  I can't hide from reality forever.  But it's just still so hard for me to talk about it.  I just don't know exactly how to say it.  Do I just say the D-word?  It's so hard to say it right now.  I can't do it!

I don't have the words.  I haven't found my voice just yet.

I wish I had my own speech therapist who could teach me the words.

-Shirley (Mama-Ruff)

She Searches for You

The last selfie together

10 days have passed since you were separated from her,

and she searches for you.

Although she outwardly smiles to passers by and laughs occasionally,

she still searches for you.

She searches for you when she can't finish the scraps of dinner on her plate, in every bedtime routine, and when she hears familiar sounds in the house.  Memories of you appear out of thin air in a mundane world as she puts dishes away, folds a load of laundry, or as simply as when she's walking.

She wants you to know wherever your energy now lies, that she still searches for you.

And she hopes that it makes you smile.

A Decade of Gold

I lost my furry son; my best friend...... to terminal nasal cancer two days ago.  He had given me a decade of happiness which I know is part of the foundation that makes me the person I am today.  He helped draw the smile that you see on my face, like no one else could.  He was a big part of my positive outlook on life.  He influenced me more than most humans I know.  He was in my life before I bought my first house, before I became a wife, and before I became a mom to humans.  Before any of that - I was his mom.  He was there for me through all those good times, and especially for the tough moments.   This pain i feel today is no different than losing a child.... No different.

He completed my family, so although the house today is still filled with shrieks, screams, laughter and the patter of little feet, the house now feels completely empty to me.  He used to have an invisible umbilical cord attached to me that no matter where I went in the house, he'd be right behind me after a few seconds.  He was never too far.  Now, I walk from room to room trying to feel his presence

and I feel nothing.  I'm alone.

But I found him as I made my way to the yard and felt the grass beneath my bare feet.  As I looked up to the trees and the wind blew through the leaves.  As I felt the sun and wind on my face and wondered what scented treasures the wind used to bring to his nose that he enjoyed so much.  I found him there, in nature.  It was nature that brought him to me and nature that took him back.

Now that he is physically gone, my impulse is to retreat back into my introverted shell.  But instead I am forced to trudge along and carry the weight of the world with one less pillar of support.  The pillar that I could always count on.  The one most loyal.  So now I'll need to figure out my footing in the world again, and how the pieces will fit without him.  Right now nothing fits.

But although I'm knee-deep in anguish, all this pain that I've fallen into is nothing because of the decade of love that was built to help break the fall.  It is cliche to say, but there's so much truth that it was all so worth it.  I wouldn't take any of it back to not hurt anymore.  I'll take the hurt, with open arms.  Because I had 10 great years.  10 years of hearing his cute pitched breath, of him accidentally stepping on my foot with his "hell-toes",  of bear hugs, zoomies, licks on my face, fur on my black clothes and anything I'd drop on the floor, drunken-sounding howls-- someone to keep retrieving that damn tennis ball that I couldn't seem to hold on to, or go on hikes with or a dip in the ocean and who pointed out every bench along our walks, someone who had a sexy booty-sway as he walked on leash in front of me, someone who shredded my mail, someone who always stayed by my side, and who delivered orations to me yet never said a word.   This pain can't dissolve a decade of happiness....

I knew forever would be impossible.  I know what I signed up for, and I stuck to it until the bitter end.  He did everything he was supposed to do in this world, and he did it so well.  He was the best damn best friend a girl could ask for.  And so he deserved to not suffer.  I tried my best to reciprocate the unconditional love that was so natural for him--- by letting him go before the suffering could get its filthy grasp on him.  And knowing that he is safe now is the main thing that makes my tail wag at the moment.  And I would venture to say that his furry tail is wagging too, and I possibly just felt the long golden threads from his tail brush against my face as the wind just blew in to bring me its treasures. 

And it felt good.