I turned fifty this month, just a little over a week after we lost Buddy.
Ironically, I had just said, days before Buddy got sick, that for the first time in about six years, I was excited to celebrate my birthday. I was finally able to look back at the past six years, all that we have walked through, all that we have faced, which also included the loss of two of our other dogs (both traumatic) with more joy than sadness.
Then abruptly, Buddy got sick and we lost him.
Before you roll your eyes and say "that's ridiculous", I would like to point out that furries can (and do) fill the gaps in ways you don't realize until you are either homebound and/or struggle with a chronic illness. From the time that my kiddos were very young, and as I began to fully realize the extent that "normal" life would be challenging for them, our furries stepped into the gap, filling up holes for friendship, emotional regulation and support, and comfort that are hard to give voice to.
These guys became our literal best friends and we were their whole world. Whether in Arendale's case where he became totally dependent upon us to keep him alive, or Tanner, who in the last portion of his life, was paralyzed and dependent on us to get from one point to another, we were likewise leaning into them. Their presence, comfort, and ability to listen without judging (one of a dog's best traits). So when they were gone - it - well I don't actually have the words to describe the sense of loss that occurred.
But with Buddy, the grief has been even deeper, the loss has touched every single area. He was our everything (because unlike with Tanner and Arendale, Buddy was our only dog for a long stretch of time and went (almost) everywhere with us). I called him my furry son, and my girls' furry brother - he was involved in every single area of our lives. Bad day - Buddy often knew before I did if a seizure or meltdown was coming. Getting sick? Buddy would often times sense it and velcro to the person who wasn't feeling well. Sad? Buddy was always on hand to crawl into your lap and get as close as be could, almost as if he was trying to take the sadness from you. Stressful outing or hard appointment? Buddy was waiting for us when we got home. We would scoop him up and kiss him and love him and just absorb his furry preciousness.
I miss him so, so, so very much.
In the past year he experienced some serious stomach issues, so his care became a bit more detailed and now - the medicine in the morning, the morning walk, the making sure he was eating (he was handfed - three times a day to alleviate the strain on his tummy/digestive system) - all of this is suddenly gone.
And I am so very sad.
I found myself not wanting to celebrate my birthday. To delay the dinner and the movies (we always let the birthday person spend the month of their birthday picking and watching all of their favorite movies), presents...all of it.
I asked to just wait.
Because I was turning fifty and had planned several things with Buddy in mind and he all of a sudden wasn't here. And silly things - like a new coffee shop is opening and every time we drive by it I would say - I can't wait until ________ opens. And now Buddy (who, of course, NEVER drinks coffee, but sometimes would accompany me on my coffee run) isn't here and it will open without him. And I cry every time I drive by - silly I know. But it's just a reminder that life is moving on and he's gone.
We were in the middle of reading The Hobbit aloud and that book has been the perfect thing to carry us through. I don't know what it is about that story, but it has been such a good anchor these past few weeks. Even when we could just read a page or two.
So - yesterday was National Hobbit Day and the first day of Fall. And to celebrate, since it was finally cooler than 3, 657 degrees it has been almost every day this summer, we made cinnamon applesauce bread. First time I have turned on the oven in months. And this morning we toasted the leftover bread for breakfast and turned the last pages of the book, my heart is sad, realizing that life is just a series of goodbyes and letting go.
And I do not like goodbyes.
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