Tag Archives: tribute

My love letter to Doug

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Dear Doug,

You are this life’s greatest gift. All of your brothers are bud, but for this moment, it’s you. My perfect boy. How did I get so lucky that the universe said, put these two together? That I even got a moment to love you, is everything. And you loved me back, so beautifully. I can’t imagine anything to be more grateful for. Some roads are paved differently. Ours certainly was. When I think of us, I still cry. It’s a slow heal. Some of that is sadness, but all of it is me being so fucking thankful that you arrived in my life. I would travel through this life, or any other life, with you, over and over and over again on repeat. I’d obviously like to change some of the circumstances, and I would take any struggle meant for you since you had to carry weight of the struggle this go around. I don’t think you know how grateful my heart is for you. You showed me how deep love can go. A love so pure that joy flows out of it wildly. A love so strong, it healed our little corner of the world. A love so deep, I will likely grieve it forever.  Our end broke us both in ways that continue to break my heart. But, Bubba, we still burned brightly every day. I am so proud of the ‘we’ you and I became. 

You are love and liquid joy. One glance and people fell in love with you every time. One look into those golden eyes was all it took. Your wiggly dance and your exuberance and dedication to food. Your wild child zoomie naughty moments. The way you’d melt into the people you loved. My most perfect boy. I can’t say that enough. Those months during the pandemic, when it was just us. The world was broken, and you had just been diagnosed with NCL, and then suddenly, you and I got all that time together. In so many ways, our love grew stronger in darkness. Not much of it came with a guide, but you and I penned one for NCL together. We made a promise to the universe that no family would get that diagnosis and have to be alone. And now there’s an NCL family. Now, we all have each other. More pages of our story included NCL than didn’t. I can’t change that. Oh, how I wish I could. Every day during NCL, you did everything I asked of you. I can only hope I never asked for too much. I can only hope I gave you everything you needed to cope and that you felt my love and adoration up to, and now beyond, your last breath. 

On our worst days, you were the very best parts. On our best days, you were the reason why. Caring for you was the honor of my life. Full stop. You and me and our tiny giant love. It’s where I store my heart. 

I miss you every minute of every day. I know you can see how much I’m struggling. It’s hard being here without you. I read something recently that resonated so profoundly with me. It talked about how humans and dogs regulate each other. That was us. You regulated me, and I regulated you. And I think I will always be a little unregulated without you.   

I thought I knew grief, but I didn’t. Losing you has not been the same as losing your brothers. None of those coping skills have worked. The weight in my chest says good night to me at the end of each day, and hello again, each morning. There are moments when that weight is so heavy, I can’t breathe. Losing you has felt beyond my capability. I spend my days trying to avoid moving further away from you. It doesn’t work. We missed out on the other half of your life, and I’m still here hoping for it. 

But we didn’t miss out on the other half of our love. That, was always whole.

Archie is helping me to heal. I remember when Jake died and you came six weeks later. I was so thankful that you were not like him. And in my grief over you, it has helped a lot that Archie is the opposite of you in so many ways, except, of course, the love. The love will always be the same. 

It is unlikely I will ever get over losing you. But I will keep the promise that I whispered to you when we said goodbye. That every single day, I will take our beautiful love and make sure that as many people and animals as possible feel it. I will pay our love forward until the day I die. And if one day people say, she had so much love to give, that love is you. Bud, at some point in our journey, I realized you are the reason I am here. Thank you for regulating me. You are forever the beautiful parts of me. I carry your perfect, sweet, gentle, loving heart in my heart. You made everything better, including me. I love you, Doug. Always.

Love, me.

Sally.

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My friend (next door neighbor, sister), Virginia and her family, lost their dog recently.

Lost is a very simple word for a very terrible moment.

Sally should still be here.

Before I tell you how Sally left this world, let me first tell you how she became to be a dog I love. There is a rescue group in Northern Virginia called Lost Dog & Cat Rescue. They have a ranch in our area where dogs, who are not in foster, are housed until they find homes.  A few years back, during a polar vortex, they lost power.  Lost Dog put out an urgent plea via social media for people to take animals in for a day or two until the power could be restored.

Virginia, and her giving heart, immediately responded ‘of course’. They were assigned a dog to pick up the next day. When Virginia and her kids went to get the dog, Sally came running out and leapt into their arms. Sally was not the dog they were signed up to get that day, but Sally was the dog they took home. Sally was just meant to be.

The Polar Vortex came and went. The power was restored.  Sally never returned to the ranch.

Sally, was a Dachshund mix. She was probably 6ish when Virginia and her family took her in. She was a man-hating, bitch and bad ass. True story. I loved everything about that saucy dog.

Virginia championed every single thing about Sally. Sally would go nuts over men coming into the house (not in the fun nuts way, more in the let’s kill men nuts way).  Virginia could have put Sally in a room whenever a strange male came over, but instead, she would explain Sally to said male, and ask him to work with them on getting Sally more comfortable.

We should all be so blessed as to have a Virginia to explain our odd behavior and plead for understanding for us.

In return, Sally loved Virginia the most. The most of all the family and the most that a dog can love her person.

A few weeks ago, Sally got out of the house.  It was the accident we all fear, a door was not closed completely and she was tiny enough to wiggle out.

She was hit by a car.

I was at Virginia’s house when this happened. Her two youngest children came running in, screaming that Sally had been hit. The world started moving in slow motion. In the next sixty seconds, Virginia scooped up Sally, she and I got into my car and headed for the vet. The vet is one mile away.

Sally died in Virginia’s arms on the way.

There are honestly no words to describe what an incredibly horrible moment this was in life. Anyone who has ever lived through anything like this, just hopes it never happens to anyone else.

Sally’s life began and ended in Virginia’s arms. She was loved fiercely. She was a little dog who left a huge void.

The car that hit Sally, didn’t stop. They slammed on their brakes, ran her over and sped off. In front of children. So today, and tomorrow, and all the other days when we find ourselves in neighborhoods where families live and love and dogs and cats live and love…please slow down. #slowdownforSally. And should an accident ever happen, and accidents are going to happen, please stop and do the right thing. Do it because you are a good person.  Do it for Sally.

Dearest Sally, I hope to one day have half the spunk you had for life. Thank you for accepting Doug, you are the one and only female he ever adored. You will be loved and missed, forever. xoxo

Dear Jake.

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I love you. You are one of the greatest gifts of my life.

It has been one year since I held you in my arms. I really don’t want to be marking this day on the calendar. I just want you here. Our time was cut way too short, Jakey.  I’m not sure I will ever makes sense of that. But, thoughts of you rarely make me sad. In fact, just the vision of you, brings on a flood of glorious joy.

You are my sunshine.

You were meant to be mine. There is no doubt. Your first family was to give up on you so that I could see you through your ‘special opportunities’. They were not joy warriors. They would not have been able to make sense of you like Melvin and I did.

You needed to know my love. In the process, I found more love than I ever knew existed.

You are the closest I will have ever come to having a child.  Not just because I changed your diapers and carried you, but because out of all the dogs I have had, you are the only one that relied on me completely. I doubt I will ever nurture anyone as much as I did you.

I was honored to be chosen to show you the way. But guess what little monkey, I think you guided me far more than I guided you.

Those months of intense grief that we shared after Melvin died, are forever, only ours. I would not have made it through if it were not for you. We grieved in exactly the same way and we needed space at the same time. Melvin was the Yin to your Yang but I was happy to fill in when it was just you and me. While I would have preferred you stayed here with me, I know that if given the choice between here and there, you would choose Melvin every time. Trust me. I get it. I love you even more for understanding so perfectly what Melvin love is all about.

Jakey, I love you completely, and beautifully and eternally. It’s a love that is woven through my bones.  It’s a crazy love, that even has me missing your damn meatballs sometimes.

You were not an easy puzzle to solve.  I hardly ever knew what to make of you.  I felt pretty confident, daily, that I had no idea of what you wanted or needed. You were my little cinder block. Impossible to read, unpredictable as F, and the funniest living creature that I will ever have the joy of laughing at/with/near.

I miss you. Some days, it’s still too much to put into perspective.

I’m not mad that life dealt you the hand it did.  I mean, I’d obviously prefer you lived a struggle free life, filled with joy and zoomies and peanut butter (and your odd carpet love making).  But that life may not have lead you to me. Sometimes, the road to true joy and unconditional love is paved by lessons in perseverance. That is our beautiful story, Jakey.

We earned our joy. We earned our love. I would only change that you stayed with me longer. It felt like there was not enough time with you. I will always feel that you deserved way more than eight years on this earth.  And this earth, deserved more you. There was just never enough Jakey to go around!  You brought the noise and the funk, and you were this tiny puzzle piece that when snapped into your forever spot, made our world come alive.

You made everything make sense.

Your eyes. I would give anything to stare into them (one at a time of course) again. But that is what all those photos and videos are for bud.  I can’t be a crazy dog person without admitting I have over 40,000 photos in my library. That library of memories of you and Melvin, is my most cherished possession.

There is something very soul changing about caring for a special needs dog. I remember how scared you were when your legs first gave out but Melvin rushed to you and I watched as you inhaled his love. I reached for you as your legs were swimming and you began to panic. You exhaled and melted into my arms and I knew and you knew and Melvin knew that no matter what was to come, we would always be there for you. Caring for you the last year of your life, with your eye, all the skin infections and the cancer, I learned so much from you. For all the shit that this universe dumped on you that last year, you responded with joy.

You and me, we won.

You and Melvin and me were meant to be. We are, and always will be, that little family who grew love and watched joy bloom.

Also, I know it’s  you who watches over Doug.  I know this with absolute certainty.  You are the perfect big brother for him. You guiding him makes my heart happy. I only wish you were here to torment him in person.  You would be the ultimate boss of him, bud! And, if you are taking request, calm him down any day now!

Jakey, my love for you lives on in so many beautiful ways. You changed me. I scroll my Facebook feed and I see a dog with no eyes or a dog dragging their legs and the old me would have said poor thing but Jake’s mom knows that there is nothing but opportunity in those photos. Because of you, I see the beautiful in the broken, I see opportunity for joy when faced with struggle. When the journey gets hard, I see you, and I’m reminded that all the obstacles, and all the twists and turns that occur, are part of my beautiful life unfolding. I know that you and Melvin and Max will always show me the way.

You know who doesn’t miss you?  All the neighborhood wildlife.  But they are stupid so who cares what they think.

I’m so grateful that I was chosen to love you. You are my beautiful purpose. My wonky, little-monkey. My googly-eyed, chicken nugget.

I love you. Your love lives on, in me. Forever.

xoxo

me.

Photo Credit: Kate With A Camera / Kate Juliet Photography
Photo credit: Kate Juliet Photography

 

 

Joy rising.

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I was thinking about #loveliveson last night. How the day after Melvin died, that idea formed in my mind and got me out of bed. I didn’t know then what I know now, that it would become my purpose, who I was to become. Love living on is a force that drives me. Sometimes it’s a big gesture of effort and sometimes it is much more quiet. 100% of the time, I’m a required participant.

Joy can’t spread on its own.

Grief can tend to make a lot of things grey and dark. Being open to joy takes work.  I sometimes have to dig deep to see the colors of a day fill in. I have to be open to seeing Melvin and Jake’s love, growing and blooming in unexpected places. While I may wake up on any given day with a strong ache of loss, the universe will almost always serve me up something beautiful to balance it. It’s not always obvious, but it’s always there. Like a note from a reader saying my grief experience is helping her deal with the loss of her dog. Or unexpectedly seeing a video of Oliver running around in the wheelchair that we donated to him. Sometimes, love living on is as easy as sunshine or a quiet moment that lets a memory of the boys take over. Love lives on in every sunset too. Last night there was a frost warning here, love exploded through that alert because for many, many years the first frost signaled the end of allergy season for Melvin.  That alert was joy reminding me from where I came.

Love living on requires me to take action. To donate Jake’s things. To take in a foster, to donate to a cause, to be there for someone in need.  Some days, love living on is through patience for Doug.

Love living on requires me to hold onto the fact that they were here, we persevered, love won; in the same moment it requires me to be present. If I had been the one to go, Jake and Melvin would have spread my love like a wildfire.

This is life’s beautiful work.

Of course, the boys live on through my efforts with Melvin and Jake’s Project Joy too. I was more public with how we reached out with Melvin’s Project Joy efforts.  Since adding Jake to that cause, I have been a little more quiet about the ways we are helping.  Melvin was loud and proud and exuberant. So were our efforts in his memory.  Jake was more reserved. Our last year together was he and I leaning on each other, so for the last few months, my giving has been more quiet, like Jake and I were. But every single thing I do in his memory, sends loud joy outward and inward.

Every thought of them both, inspires me to always give more than I take.

When I get up each morning, there is a nanosecond where I keep my eyes closed and pretend Melvin and Jake are still here with me.

  • I have gotten up 562 times since Melvin died. Since that very first morning, I felt him with me.  I will never be able to explain it but he has never really left me.
  • I have risen 100 times since Jake died.  There is still sadness in those moments. Less air. There is still more healing needed, more joy to spread to be sure that mending continues.
  • I have woken up to Doug, 55 times. That makes me have a smile explosion.

Three different boys, two different losses, one beautiful love. I rise up every day to make sure that love lives on and grows and that I do my part to fuel our joy train.

This song lifts me, inspires me, calms me and brings me joy. This song is my battle cry.