On Grief

I recently watched the series Brene Brown made based on her book, Atlas of the Heart, where she discusses 87 emotions that help define what it means to be human. I watched this in preparation for knowing I would be navigating a series of emotions on the road to and through grief. For a long time now, I’ve known that when the day would come that I would say goodbye to a particular being, I would be a wreck. Of all the beings in my life, this one taught me more of myself than any other.  In an attempt to maintain a sense of normalcy, I decided that in a state of grief, I would continue with existing plans for a vacation. I realize that was not the best for me through this process. Going far away to a beautiful place was a mild distraction, but just as every other time I have run from facing pain, it only hurt worse. Grief and loss are part of the human condition, but also part of the animal condition too. My household is not the same without him here. Mabel seems sad and wants to be by my side at all times. When she goes outside, she lies on his grave. The Captain is gone. Our protector has taken his wings and our home feels quiet and empty. His presence was so big that without him here, I feel a void throughout my being. I know it is a process, but I am certain, I will carry this one forever. When I look upon his final resting place, I am reminded that I was blessed to have him as my fierce companion; and that I challenged myself to remain steadfast in working with him when no one else would. There are not enough tears in my face and though the feelings are here, the words are not, except for these: I was made for you.

Eulogy for My Main Man

A reflection of me. You are that being, the presence that I never knew I needed but somehow was forced to realize. You were that living thing that taught me more of who I am than any other living thing I have ever known. From the beginning, you were a challenge. You were fierce at 5 weeks old, aggressively asserting your position in the world. Thousands of hours and dollars of training shaped your behavior for the most part, but your temperament was engrained from your birth. You were designed to hunt. You were designed to kill. And, your time with me was a compromise that lasted 12 years. My love for you extends beyond anything I can describe, as you have been the most self-sacrificing commitment I have made in my life. You have never really showed love as some dogs do, though I cannot at all ignore the times when I have hurt the most and you have laid your head in my lap as though to say, “I am here”. You were made to serve a job, an independent job in the woods with a cast of other animals like you. You were never made to cuddle with a human, and living with you sometimes reminded me of having a delinquent son who would have been jailed at age 10. 

The shenanigans you pulled over the years will be bellyaching laughter for the rest of my life. Every cake on the counter was stamped with your bite. Picking carrots from the garden was always one of your favorite past times and brought me so much joy to watch. My nectarines never grew because you always picked them from the tree before they had a chance. As a puppy, your love for pinecones on a walk made me laugh so hard it was difficult to continue walking you.

The sheer ability of your physicalness has always intrigued me; so strong; so fierce; and so outright protective of me. This is why today was one of the hardest days of my life. Saying goodbye to you pains my soul to its core, yet it is how this must be. I often tell myself that life throws us curve balls. You were the biggest curve I ever took, and I do not regret one moment of taking that curve for you. You were my main man, my captain. The one who bayed a bay that shook the neighborhood. “Mr. Jumpy,” as the children in the neighborhood referred to you. Your body withstood your mind. The happy accident of us being companions over the past 12 years makes me grateful until my last day. Goodnight my sweet boy, who in your glory made your presence known in the most obnoxious way you could. I will love you forever. Rest in Great Peace my Sherman.