solace
2010
It’s almost a week since our dear little doggies died. What a week. Whilst our eyes are no longer puffy with tears, the disbelief seems stronger than ever. Some moments are still so raw, I cannot tell if the shadow of panic and anxiety is creeping up on me, if my breath is shortening, or if this is simply grief. And there are Abby and Julian beside me, also struggling with sadness, needing my love and attention, sharing their love and attention.
I try to hold on to the soothing words of Ruth Moody …
“When our hearts they speak so loudly, we can only listen. We can only listen.”
And instead of sinking into the sad details of Simon and Toph’s last hours, we try to focus on what lays before us, whilst remembering and sharing the delight that was our time with our dear doggies. All the beautiful and thoughtful words left here have truly helped, thankyou. Family and friends have called everyday to share their love, tears and stories, thankyou. Colleagues at work have been so kind and accomodating, thankyou. Rachel, Hugh and the nurses have sent their love, thank you. And life has to go on.
There are the usual chores and rituals, albeit carried out with an unfamiliar quietness.
There have been days at home alone, long and needing to have their stillness filled.
Whilst lunching with Julian in town, I found these soft colours of the coming season at the wool store and brought it home to knit up this spring shawl.
The doggies’ blankets have been washed and lay folded and soft on their beds.
Each day, signs appear that after a long grey winter, the earth is once again beginning to warm.
And yet Simon and Toph are not here to see it. To bathe in the sun. To fossick through the garden. To patiently follow us round and round the house. How can this be so?
It just is. It just is. And we can only listen.
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Still fills my eyes with tears. You are so gifted with expressing your feelings. Again, I am so sorry. ~karen
I feel for you dear Lily. I have to say, it took me a long time after our sweet Schooner left us to not walk about the boat with a hitch in my step expecting a furry friend underfoot. And our guinea pig is a poor substitute (sorry Mookie). But we carried on. Which doesn’t mean we don’t STILL (2+ years later) miss him and love him, we just have different ways of keeping him in our hearts. Zach’s favorite way is story telling. Not a week goes by without a request for a “Schooner The Wonder Dog” story. How these little furballs get so imprinted in our hearts is a wonder indeed.
Have you thought about ordering a bag or keyring with simon and tophs picture? artscow.com and snapfish do them pretty cheaply and it’s nice to have something more tactile than just memories.
I am so very, very sorry to learn about your little dogs.
My hope in sharing your sadness is that yours will ease. My family send yours love and comfort. One day at a time…
This is a very interesting point of view. Your blog is refreshing, but I wish one could find more content, though. I am looking forward to reading more from you. Keep up the good work. thanks.
I lost my best friend Mercury 4 years ago this November 10. I still feel the disbelief that she is not here anymore, to follow me EVERYWHERE, to ride with me( again, everywhere, and that I had to make the decision to have her “put to sleep”, still haunts me, even though there was no hope for her. Everywhere that she was my constant companion, I feel her loss, even now. I say this not to add to your grief, but to let you know your dear friends will really never be gone. It sounds corny, I know, but I have found it to be so very true.
Have been with you all week in spirit, it is so very, very difficult.
xxxx
I lost my old German Shepherd boy last year at nine years. Your photo of the doggy collars brought tears to my eyes! My old boy loved the car, so his collar and name tag are hanging around the gear shift. I think of him often, but especially when I drive.
It is not easy to lose your best pals. I’m so sorry for the loss. Things are going to get easier, slowly… I hope love & warmth of friends and family and the comfort of needle & thread in your hands bring respite in the meantime.. *Hugs*
I read the story’s last Sunday of Simon and Tophs deaths and cried with you. My darling Cleo cat nestled in my arms and licked away my tears. I feel for all of you.
My heart breaks for you! Take one day at a time remembering all your readers are with you and your family in spirit.
Your words are beautiful. These sorts of days were exactly what got me through that first while after my Simon (the beagle) so quickly passed.
And now – months later – I carry his dog tag on my key chain (along with the dog tag of my childhood pup). The jingling of the keys feels just right, somehow, with their tags there.
Oh my, oh my…. I was hopping thru my favorite quilting blogs, and when I got to yours, it just took my breath away. I am so so sorry for your loss. To lose not only one but BOTH! I was just crying, then had to go hug my dogs until they squirmed to get away. I can’t imagine coming home and not having my two little squirrel chasers there to greet me. My heart goes out to you, you are in my thoughts and prayers. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, emotions and photos so beautifully…
Oh – I am so sorry for your devastating loss – Peace be with you…
Hi, Lily…
I’ve been thinking quite a bit about you and your family these past couple days. I cried many tears when I read about your sweet pups. Little did I know that I, too, would be in your shoes sooner than I imagined. My sweet Basset died unexpectedly this past saturday. Reading your posts again and seeing how you have carried on without them (no matter how wrong it feels) has helped me so much. As I type this through the tears, I want to thank you again for this wonderful blog..