Nine Months Later

When I was a child and moaned about being bored; my father promised me that time soars much faster with age. Again and again, I am mystified that it has been a nine months since I stroked one of my Lug's favorite spots, right between his eyes. We laid nose to nose and I whispered, "I'm going to miss you so much". I found it impossible to utter "goodbye". The finality was too much to bear.

Outside of my sun room; in plain sight from the spot I practice yoga, there are two trees that I often focus my gaze during poses. In the past week, as the leaves have started to fall; the canopies of both trees have dramatically changed shape. Every time my eyes meet the two heart-shaped trees; I think of Finn and wonder if he is sending his love from a beautiful after-life; a world beyond my comprehension. Or perhaps they are just haphazard symbols I need and want to mean something so I can stay connected to my Lug. I have no clue what the answer is, but I know thinking of Finn watching over me from a better place gives me peace and doesn't hurt anyone.

In the words of Frank O' Connor from the book Healing After Loss, "All I know from my own experience is that the more loss we feel the more grateful we should be for whatever it was we had to lose. It means we had something worth grieving for. The ones I'm sorry for are the ones that go through life not even knowing what grief is".

I find this quote fascinating; now that January is further and further away, I try to hide my tears when random reminders of Finn sometimes sting. And, when a client I have not seen in ages asks me about Finn; I sniffle because I miss my Lug, not because of the kind inquiry; though every person expresses how terrible he or she feels about making me cry. And I don't want anyone to feel bad asking about Finn. What a shame it would be if I were unphased. There will always, always be a special place in my heart reserved for my Lug and all our memories. But, my ticker seems to have grown to allow space to adore the snuggle bug, delicate flower that is Gavin; it is very comforting when tears still sometimes strike.

Friends and family often describe Finn as "gentle" and an "old soul" but that was who Finn grew to be; not who he always was. I remember how happy I was when I discovered the nubbin inside his ears; my Lug barely sat still for any petting unless he was passed out from chasing tennis balls. Oh, Finn's eyes rolled back into his head as he clumsily leaned into my knuckle then knocked my hand onto the pillow with the weight of his head. I thought my Lug was telling me he was done with the massage but when I stopped, he popped his head up with his best "Damnit!" face. So, I smushed my hand back under his head watched it bob up and down as he relaxed; something that did not come naturally to Finn. As I think back to the hours I spent in the last couple of years massaging his old muscles; I acknowledge that those cherished quiet moments were well earned, on both our parts.

Gavin gives his affection so easily and when he meets any one of his many new daily friends, I no longer have to tell them that I just lost my Finn. I once needed the sympathy to survive. But now, when I see someone who asks about Finn, all I need is a hug. And, Lil' Big Head will happily jingle jangle to join.

Gavin and I are attending a big fundraiser tonight for the organization that saved his life; I can't wait to see how handsome he is in his sparkly red bow tie. No doubt Lil' Big Head will be the life of the party and will absolutely cherish all his admirers. I like giving Gavin what he needs and wants. A giant celebration around other dogs would have made Finn crazy. My Lug preferred being an only child and treasured being the center of my attention all the time while Lil' Big Head is completely content blending into the party.