I want happy endings. I want to believe in happily-ever-after.
A dear friend of mine emailed when I shared on the blog the slump that followed retirement. She is the sweetest person I know, a person who lives the Christian spirit in a true and honest way, in a way that makes sense and makes me want to be a better person. Love you, SB.
“Mom has bouts of it every few months -- the same thing over and over. Just in one now actually, as she again is trying to figure out her purpose, life-plan, future, whatever you want to call it, without my dad. One shoe in the past, one shoe in the present.”
Forgive me SB’s mom, because this will seem inconsequential and trivial in comparison to your endless ache. But know that I share it with heartfelt sincerity. We had the most amazing dogs. We loved them and when they died it broke our hearts. Never again would we open ourselves to the pain.
Our house was empty and lonely without them, each of us delaying our return home at the end of a workday because we did not want to face the lifeless rooms alone. Fate intervened, a snowstorm, time on my hands, breeders willing to forsake their choice of one little pup to allow two little fur-sisters to stay together.
They turned eight in January and if the winds of fate continue to blow gently in our direction, we will have another seven years with them. And, when they die, so will a part of us. Would we trade the years of joy and pleasure to avoid the pain? Not a chance. Our lives are richer, we are kinder, and more understanding of life in general, because of them. I will hurt, I will cry, I will feel. And I will bless the years that we shared.
I cannot imagine what it will feel like for either one of us when the other is gone. My mind cannot fathom not waking up to DH’s gentle kiss, his wonderful smile each morning and the laughter that lights every day. What I am sure of is that my heart will know the truth. I would not trade a single moment of our years together to avoid the pain. Not a single moment.
Happy Anniversary, DH. I love you.