April 7, 2019
As someone who is considered to have expertise in matters of loss and in matters of pet loss, my take on the journey through grief is that it does not complete in acceptance, in recovery, in resolution, or any of the other words so many experts use. One heals as if terribly physically injured, and with having been injured, there are always scars. Many of the scars are visible. Some are internal. Scars are indicative of having been truly alive. When you notice them, you can remember the pain. You can remember the risks and the fun that led to them. You can remember any difficulty in healing. Scars change in their appearance as they heal as well. When they are fully healed, they are just part of you and who you are.
I have also taught that it is assistive in healing for others to “hold” your grief. It is helpful for you to express it in words, in writing, in charity, in pictures, and many other ways. But it is most helpful if others hold or embrace your grief through that expression. I know also that we cleanse previous losses when we grieve again.
This post is my attempt to help heal a deep scar, and a letter to the soul whose loss and life is within the scar.
Hey Rox, it’s been a year. It’s been a year since I sent you out of your physical body which was doing you harm. I still miss you. And I still want you to be here. I bet that may never change.
I’ve been hurting lately as much as when you left. So I talked to my oldest and wisest friend last night, also a therapist, who said I shouldn’t hold myself to a year, that every process is its own. She is right; I have advised the same, but I needed to hear it. I guess that I might not ever stop grieving you. I know I will never stop wanting you or missing you.
My grieving will also never stop for others that came before you. They all, especially Beignet and some of the horses, Survirgo, Country, and Sunny, have been entering my dreams lately. Anytime I have quiet, I remember all of you. But Roxie, today your presence is big big, and my missing you hurts a great deal more than before. Jethro and Dupree seem to know what’s up with me, and they seem to know it takes both of them to help me heal now. Thank you for communicating with them.
You were so exuberant and always ready to provoke my laughter. You were perfect at cuddling, affection, closeness, and you did drool and drool and drool. The drool ensured that others let you be mine only, and that the inauthentic missed your wisdom and love. I can still feel your fur, your feet, your muzzle, and I even easily remember your smell. You were teaching me so much about living mindfully and joyfully. You made it your mission to give joy, because you absolutely loved people and other animals (especially Lilo, Dora, and Toby). You loved showing, and you knew what it was about. Your favorite thing was applause. And when you won, you tried to take the ribbons from the judge. You got most excited going to the vet, because they were eager to see you. You couldn’t wait to see them, even if they poked, prodded, and drugged you. You gave off a lot of love, my girl, at any opportunity. You lived, as we all should live.
It was our blessing that you were so beautiful; beautiful enough to win any show. I know it was part of your plan. It was my blessing to have you connected to me. You were such that we attracted others, so we made memories. We had so much fun together! We traveled; we charmed people at every stop; we bonded in unfamiliar environments. It was you and me, and me and you. We had a good time.
And I feel that you knew we were to be together before you were born. I feel many pets know something similar. You weren’t here for long; you came, you lived as long and as best as you could, loving me and making me warm and with laughter and loving me with singularity. You did it girl.
And then 21 days after your death, you gave me your bone. You did. You left it outside for me to see. That must have taken so much metaphysical energy. But true to form, your love for me was the biggest of any human or animal who has ever loved me.
So many spiritual traditions say that at a year the spirit leaves and is free. I’m okay with that. Please be free. I am tethered to the earth until my death. I can only hope that I embrace the teachings all have valiantly and trustfully given. I am grateful and indebted to you, Roxie, and all of the other animals who have graced my experience here. But I miss every single one. Today I am grateful for having lived with you my girl.
Roxie, I am writing this letter to you as well as to share with any other human who shares a similar love. I have not been a perfect person or a perfect animal host. But I am grateful that I have been loved. I have been loved in the purest form, and it was just given without request. I have been loved by perfect souls. In all dimensions, we are connected, I pray, forever.
Remembering you today and everyday, Roxie. Thank you my sweet girl.
Here are some other links to know Roxie: