Learn to listen and glean. Learn to utilize what is helpful for you, and forget the rest. It's a skill set that will get you through a thousand scenarios. It doesn't have to be your own personal form of hell for you to learn from it. You do have the ability to learn from the actions of others. But you also have the ability to recognize when something just won't work for you.
I'll give myself as an example. When Chief was deployed, I had a newborn. She was actually born while he was home on R&R (he left to go back the morning after we left the hospital). Everyone and their mother told me to not let her sleep in my room. Never mind that I was completely exhausted, an emotional wreck, and overwhelmed. That didn't matter. Everyone said if I let her sleep in my room she would get used to sleeping in there and would never want to leave and my sex life/marriage would be ruined.
I listened. For two weeks neither I, nor my daughter, got any sleep. The only time she would sleep was when I was holding her. So I got smart and realized that "everyone" was an idiot. Or maybe a better way to write that would be to say that "everyone" doesn't walk in my shoes, live in my home, raise my daughter. I do. (Well, Chief and I do, but for the sake of this paragraph it's much more kick-donkey to say "I do".) She slept successfully in my room for two months and then she was ready to move on. It didn't "destroy" my sex life/marriage. The thing that "everyone" didn't know (or failed to recognize) is that infants know their mom's by smell. Did you know that? They know you by your scent before sight. So when they don't smell you, it can effect their sense of safety and security. What did I learn? I know my child better than "everyone". I learned to fight for her best interests, not what everyone else thinks are her best interests.
Does this mean we should ignore all "advice"? No. Don't become the "idiot". Learn to know the difference between helpful advice and what should happen in your life. Learn to understand that people offer advice from their experiences, from walking in their own shoes. No one's life mirrors your own. But that doesn't mean that you can't learn from their knowledge. Just because I've never done drugs doesn't mean I need to go and take them in order to know they're bad for me. I can learn from those who've done them and recognize it's a bad idea.
There's a newspaper article that was turned in to a song (The Sunscreen song), where the author wrote "Be careful with whose advice you buy. But be patient with those who supply it. Advice, is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it's worth." -Mary Schmich (which I feel the need to point out that "Mary's" are really awesome, FYI) I will leave you with her words.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Marriage Advice Bandwagon
Chief is an asshole. He is lazy as all get out, arrogant to a T (Self degradation is arrogance, because it's still constantly being focused on one's self. So if you think you're so "humble" by constantly bashing yourself, here's a newsflash: you're just as arrogant as the people who think they're hot stuff.), insensitive, rude, thoughtless, and on and on. Right now, as I write this, he's passed out in bed, while I have already done half of the house hold duties.
Lately, I've been seeing a plethora of people focused on what makes a marriage work. There have been all of these articles/posts/comments about "the secret to a happy marriage" or "how to keep your marriage young". Here's another newsflash for you: there's no secret. There's no one-solution-fits-all answer. What works for a marriage on day one, isn't going to necessarily work on day 10,000. What works for me and Chief isn't going to work for you and billy/susie.
My husband has a plethora of flaws. I listed only a few, in that first paragraph above. They barely begin to scratch the surface. Shall I now go about listing mine? I am an asshole. I am arrogant as all get out (because I am that awesome!), rude, distracted, grumpy, snippy, immensely sensitive, selfish, lazy, demanding, impulsive, constantly joking, and on and on.
Check it out, we're two F'd up people, making it work. Two completely screwed up individuals (because everyone in society/the world are completely screwed up, and if you're in such denial that you can't admit to that, you're probably really really really completely screwed up. lol), who are walking contradictions, and we're "happy."
I think that people have become so busy being busy about something that they're forgotten the humanity of their partner. They've forgotten that they have a mouth and that you never shut up, you never stop jabbering on about what you need, what you're able to give, what you want given back, over and over and over again. No one knows Chief better than me (this is not a bash on Mama Chief, it's just the facts at this point in his life), and no one knows me better than Chief. Why? Because we made it that way. There are many, many components to my personality than no one knows but Chief (and this is not all in the romantic/sexual aspects. I'm talking about real actual elements to "me".). My sense of self has no limits with Chief. Open book (with the exception of some sorority sworn oaths of silence, which drive him crazy....). He has an all access pass.
I adore my lazy, arrogant, selfish husband. I adore him, even when I hate him. I adore him when he's thinking of no one but himself. I adore him, because I choose to. I almost never think about his flaws. Instead, I choose to focus on what I adore: the way his whole body lights up when he smiles/laughs, how it feels when he puts his hand on my skin, how the sound of his voice makes my heart beat faster, how much comfort washes over me when I'm so immensely stricken with grief and he just lays next to me in silence, how hard he works to provide for me and our family, how much duty and loyalty are the foundation of his personality, how he becomes a human heater when he sleeps, how he makes me coffee every day, does the dishes nearly every night, will occasionally make a meal, how he makes me laugh, and on and on. These are what I think about. These are what I focus on. These are what make me happy.
Happiness is a choice. There's a line in a book called One True Thing where the author writes (paraphrasing): Do you think I don't know about all that he's done wrong? I know better than you. But it's so much easier to choose to be happy. I just wish you would choose to be happy.
In marriage, you seriously do, just have to "choose" to be happy. It's up to you.
Lately, I've been seeing a plethora of people focused on what makes a marriage work. There have been all of these articles/posts/comments about "the secret to a happy marriage" or "how to keep your marriage young". Here's another newsflash for you: there's no secret. There's no one-solution-fits-all answer. What works for a marriage on day one, isn't going to necessarily work on day 10,000. What works for me and Chief isn't going to work for you and billy/susie.
My husband has a plethora of flaws. I listed only a few, in that first paragraph above. They barely begin to scratch the surface. Shall I now go about listing mine? I am an asshole. I am arrogant as all get out (because I am that awesome!), rude, distracted, grumpy, snippy, immensely sensitive, selfish, lazy, demanding, impulsive, constantly joking, and on and on.
Check it out, we're two F'd up people, making it work. Two completely screwed up individuals (because everyone in society/the world are completely screwed up, and if you're in such denial that you can't admit to that, you're probably really really really completely screwed up. lol), who are walking contradictions, and we're "happy."
I think that people have become so busy being busy about something that they're forgotten the humanity of their partner. They've forgotten that they have a mouth and that you never shut up, you never stop jabbering on about what you need, what you're able to give, what you want given back, over and over and over again. No one knows Chief better than me (this is not a bash on Mama Chief, it's just the facts at this point in his life), and no one knows me better than Chief. Why? Because we made it that way. There are many, many components to my personality than no one knows but Chief (and this is not all in the romantic/sexual aspects. I'm talking about real actual elements to "me".). My sense of self has no limits with Chief. Open book (with the exception of some sorority sworn oaths of silence, which drive him crazy....). He has an all access pass.
I adore my lazy, arrogant, selfish husband. I adore him, even when I hate him. I adore him when he's thinking of no one but himself. I adore him, because I choose to. I almost never think about his flaws. Instead, I choose to focus on what I adore: the way his whole body lights up when he smiles/laughs, how it feels when he puts his hand on my skin, how the sound of his voice makes my heart beat faster, how much comfort washes over me when I'm so immensely stricken with grief and he just lays next to me in silence, how hard he works to provide for me and our family, how much duty and loyalty are the foundation of his personality, how he becomes a human heater when he sleeps, how he makes me coffee every day, does the dishes nearly every night, will occasionally make a meal, how he makes me laugh, and on and on. These are what I think about. These are what I focus on. These are what make me happy.
Happiness is a choice. There's a line in a book called One True Thing where the author writes (paraphrasing): Do you think I don't know about all that he's done wrong? I know better than you. But it's so much easier to choose to be happy. I just wish you would choose to be happy.
In marriage, you seriously do, just have to "choose" to be happy. It's up to you.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Chocolate
Moments come where the sucker punch is so intense you can barely see through it. The sting of grief overwhelms and your whole self is broken. This grief, this heart devastation, manifests itself in different ways. Sometimes it's crying in the shower, sometimes it's curled up on the floor staring in to space. Sometimes it's lost in silent pain, holding hands with your best friend.
Goodbye stings deeper than almost any sting. The memories become ghosts, haunting your thoughts. They randomly launch you into a happy moment, only to leave you with the grieve of the harsh reality: they are gone.
I am sitting here trying to say goodbye. Goodbye to what I envisioned, goodbye to what I wanted, goodbye to something good to look forward to. Good bye to you.
I feel sick to my stomach. I find myself alternating between functioning and disconnecting. Trying to disengage myself from the ghost of your presence is practically impossible. And I hate you for that. I hate you for hurting me. I hate me for hating you. Which leads to anger, and helplessness. Is that really the root cause of it all? Being utterly helpless?
I am so helpless. I can't do anything! I can't make anything happen, or prevent anything from happening, or keep anyone here. I can't make death go away, or the sting of loss, or eradicate grief. I am like a grain of sand, tossed around by the whims of the Ocean and His will. I feel battered and bruised and defeated.
I miss you.
Goodbye stings deeper than almost any sting. The memories become ghosts, haunting your thoughts. They randomly launch you into a happy moment, only to leave you with the grieve of the harsh reality: they are gone.
I am sitting here trying to say goodbye. Goodbye to what I envisioned, goodbye to what I wanted, goodbye to something good to look forward to. Good bye to you.
I feel sick to my stomach. I find myself alternating between functioning and disconnecting. Trying to disengage myself from the ghost of your presence is practically impossible. And I hate you for that. I hate you for hurting me. I hate me for hating you. Which leads to anger, and helplessness. Is that really the root cause of it all? Being utterly helpless?
I am so helpless. I can't do anything! I can't make anything happen, or prevent anything from happening, or keep anyone here. I can't make death go away, or the sting of loss, or eradicate grief. I am like a grain of sand, tossed around by the whims of the Ocean and His will. I feel battered and bruised and defeated.
I miss you.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Grace
If you're anything like me, grace seems like an abstract, impossible notion to effectively give in the realm of parenting. I mean, what does that look like? We have to walk this complicated, intricate balance of how to pour out grace on our children, all the while maintaining a lesson of life: there are consequences for your actions.
I don't by any means, claim to have the "know-how" when it comes to parenting. I'm just like everyone else, doing the best that I can. That being said, I feel like today my heart had a little lightbulb moment when it comes to grace.
My daughter asked me if she could make dinner. She has been reading a book about meals that people eat in different countries and asked if she could try one of them. There was an easy smoothie recipe (that supposedly hails from Australia), and she asked if that could be our dinner. I said sure! and we proceeded to make the smoothies together. We washed and cut up apples, mango, bananas, limes, and threw in some blueberries for good measure. Lolli was tasked with getting the blender out (yes, I'm one of "those people" who store the small appliances they don't routinely use in a cupboard). She started to move it to the counter and dropped it. Then she picked it up and dropped it again (maybe she wasn't certain if it broke on the first drop? hehe). Slippery fingers? I'm not certain. I was busy cutting up apples.
Let me allow you to glimpse into the mind of mothers. We are constantly cleaning up messes. Our things are dropped, broken, spilled on, stained, destroyed. It's almost like children see something that parents love and they immediately have a robot-like need to destroy it. Because of this, mother's don't always handle broken things with grace. Sure, there are those freak-of-nature-June-Cleavers (who I am convinced are really sociopaths, hence their ability to show no angry emotions when their children destroy things) that say all of the perfect things, but for the majority of Mom's in the world the response is generally something like: WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?!?! AAAAHHHH! YOU DROPPED IT! IT'S BROKEN! YOU DON'T HAVE ANY SHOES! SOMEBODY GET ME SOME SHOES!!!! AND THE BROOM! And then we proceed to angrily, frustratedly, perhaps silently (but usually this is that scary angry mom silence...), clean up the mess that our children have made.
On this day, I did not overreact. I said Is it broken? She said I don't think so. Dad investigated and it was. So I said Maybe Daddy will go to Walmart and get a new one and then we can finish making our smoothies. Grace. Grace poured out. And maybe that's what parental grace is supposed to be. It's not "letting it slide in grace" when our children behave like criminals (and let's be honest, children really basically behave like criminals almost daily: violence-hitting, biting, scratching, stealing-grabbing whatever toy they want when they want it, lying under oath-if I have to explain this one to you then you clearly do NOT have children, and on and on), but rather giving grace when the accidents come. Maybe grace is having the self control to recognize the things out of our children's control, and not behaving in a life-long-emotionally-detrimental way. Maybe grace looks like going to Walmart to get a new blender. Maybe grace is not being pissed when they spill (and mash) blueberries into your brand new couch. Maybe it's allowing them the freedom to destroy, fall apart, and then being the platform from which they can put things back together again.
So today I had a glimpse into how grace should show up in my home a whole lot more.
I don't by any means, claim to have the "know-how" when it comes to parenting. I'm just like everyone else, doing the best that I can. That being said, I feel like today my heart had a little lightbulb moment when it comes to grace.
My daughter asked me if she could make dinner. She has been reading a book about meals that people eat in different countries and asked if she could try one of them. There was an easy smoothie recipe (that supposedly hails from Australia), and she asked if that could be our dinner. I said sure! and we proceeded to make the smoothies together. We washed and cut up apples, mango, bananas, limes, and threw in some blueberries for good measure. Lolli was tasked with getting the blender out (yes, I'm one of "those people" who store the small appliances they don't routinely use in a cupboard). She started to move it to the counter and dropped it. Then she picked it up and dropped it again (maybe she wasn't certain if it broke on the first drop? hehe). Slippery fingers? I'm not certain. I was busy cutting up apples.
Let me allow you to glimpse into the mind of mothers. We are constantly cleaning up messes. Our things are dropped, broken, spilled on, stained, destroyed. It's almost like children see something that parents love and they immediately have a robot-like need to destroy it. Because of this, mother's don't always handle broken things with grace. Sure, there are those freak-of-nature-June-Cleavers (who I am convinced are really sociopaths, hence their ability to show no angry emotions when their children destroy things) that say all of the perfect things, but for the majority of Mom's in the world the response is generally something like: WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?!?! AAAAHHHH! YOU DROPPED IT! IT'S BROKEN! YOU DON'T HAVE ANY SHOES! SOMEBODY GET ME SOME SHOES!!!! AND THE BROOM! And then we proceed to angrily, frustratedly, perhaps silently (but usually this is that scary angry mom silence...), clean up the mess that our children have made.
On this day, I did not overreact. I said Is it broken? She said I don't think so. Dad investigated and it was. So I said Maybe Daddy will go to Walmart and get a new one and then we can finish making our smoothies. Grace. Grace poured out. And maybe that's what parental grace is supposed to be. It's not "letting it slide in grace" when our children behave like criminals (and let's be honest, children really basically behave like criminals almost daily: violence-hitting, biting, scratching, stealing-grabbing whatever toy they want when they want it, lying under oath-if I have to explain this one to you then you clearly do NOT have children, and on and on), but rather giving grace when the accidents come. Maybe grace is having the self control to recognize the things out of our children's control, and not behaving in a life-long-emotionally-detrimental way. Maybe grace looks like going to Walmart to get a new blender. Maybe grace is not being pissed when they spill (and mash) blueberries into your brand new couch. Maybe it's allowing them the freedom to destroy, fall apart, and then being the platform from which they can put things back together again.
So today I had a glimpse into how grace should show up in my home a whole lot more.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Jake
They handed me a blue collar before they brought him out and turned him over to me. He was abandoned by a family who moved and "couldn't" take him with them. He was huge and gentle and energetic. Blue became Jake, but we always kept that dog collar from the very first day.
The furry four legged love of my life is dying. As I write this to you I can't stop sobbing, reminiscing, aching. It's an ache that there's little comfort for. The agony of knowing when the right "time" is, is really being selfless enough to let him go...
The justification process for keeping him alive is really non existent now. He isn't really eating well. He falls quite frequently now. His eyes... his eyes beg me for mercy. I yelled at him for giving me that look. I yelled at him for dying. I yelled at him because I don't want this.
We've set "goodbye" dates and passed them. We've made plans and ignored them. We've argued against ourselves about whether or not we should give him "one more day to perk up". We've looked at the events of the day and tried to decide whether or not we should push it because we have something going on. We've ignored, ignored, ignored the inevitable.
How do you know when it's time? I can't tell you how many people have said "you just know". Well, no I don't. Because what I "know" and what I'm allowing myself to "know" are not in sync. A grieving mind is a powerful tool at seeing only what it wants to see. A selfish heart is completely able to ignore how rapidly he breathes, how little he eats, how often his legs fall out from under him, how much he shakes. A selfish heart can ignore all of that or can mentally look for the one. thing that he still "enjoys" and say that's reason enough to make him endure all of this agony. And I have one hell of a selfish heart. Because I don't want to say goodbye. I don't want to take him to a clinic where they'll give him a shot and I'll walk out with his blue collar and no him. I don't want to walk into my house and not see his brown furry face. I don't want to sleep and not hear him snoring away. I don't want to sit on my couch and not have him irritating me by laying on my feet, or half on my lap.
You know the end is here when the conversations about him are all past tense.
Remember how he used to pull weeds in the yard? And he would carry them over to the rocks because he didn't want them in the grass? Remember?
Remember how he used to pick up all of the tiny pieces of trash on the floor so that the triplets wouldn't put it in their mouth?
Remember how he saved my sanity and figured out what Bruni needed when she was a baby? Remember how he rescued me from near hysteria over the endless crying? Remember?
Remember that time when he decided he wanted to be held and jumped into my lap and then had this sort of consciousness that he was massive and probably shouldn't be sitting there? But he just resigned himself to what he'd already done and decided to "roll with it" and how funny that was? Remember?
Remember how he NEVER let anyone touch the babies or Lolli, but he did it in the most gentle, unobtrusive way, so that people never realized what he was actually doing? He ALWAYS put himself between a "stranger" and our children. People thought he was just friendly, or annoying, but we knew it was really about safety?
Remember how he would kick out my giant teddy bear when Chief was deployed and slip himself in its place? He HATES that teddy bear!
Remember his last hurrah of destruction where he ate the Tucks pads? Still wonder if that was the first or final act in that day of household terror.
Remember when he fell in love with that stuffed animal bird? How he would carry it around like his puppy and love on it endlessly? Remember how he dug out the brand new one he didn't even know existed (we didn't show it to him), directly out of a pile of bags without touching ANYTHING ELSE?
Remember how he would always either spoon me, or force me to spoon him, and how the process was so slow and gradual that you'd never even know it was happening until you woke up in that scenario with him happy as can be.
Remember how he was every time it rained and he wouldn't leave the porch to go to the bathroom because of his passionate hatred of water, but if there was snow... if there was snow he was the happiest dog on the planet. He would bolt out and run around like a crazy dog, rolling, diving, jumping in the frozen water.
Remember the first time he experienced a vacuum? That thing was the devil and he was certain it had to be immediately destroyed.
Remember how he was during and after his first bath? Yikes!
Remember how he hates all small dogs with a passion, but you get him around a puppy and he becomes father of the year. He would take on this goal of protection, instruction, and leadership that was absolutely beautiful to watch.
Remember how mad he was at me when I dropped him off at the Kennel overnight because we were moving and I didn't want him getting out? How he wouldn't even acknowledge my existence for two days?
Remember when he picked Foofi up off of the ground and launched her with his nose?
Remember when Foofi would jump up on his back like he was a step stool to reach something she couldn't reach under normal circumstances?
Remember the time he dragged a Husky and a Doberman across the yard while they struggled fiercely against him?
Remember how panicked he would get every time suitcases came out, or boxes were being packed, or anything "going away" was involved? Until he realized that when we left, we brought him too and then he started to enjoy it.
Remember how when Chief left for his gazillionth deployment he would sit and lick away my tears, and hold my hand with his paw until I felt comforted. Remember how he would wrap his big furry arms around me while I slept, as if he took on this charge of physical and mental protection of me, in Chief's absence.
Remember all of the personal, and beautiful things that he has shared with each of us, igniting this magical bond between himself and humanity, that can't be shared?
He has etched his very essence into my soul. He was our first family pet. I told Chief that I believed him to be a guardian angel sent to help us. He really was the only being that could soothe our daughter when she was little. He was the one who understood what she needed when we could not. He is the one who brought me, and the rest of my family, endless hours of comfort, laughter, and love. So please bare with me as I will myself to let him go. Please pour out grace, kindness, and mercy on my devastated heart. Please pray for my children, and my heart, as we say goodbye. Our children have asked to be present as he goes off to heaven.
He came into my life with a blue collar. And short of my memories, it's about to be all that I'll have left to hold. My God, this hurts.
Edited: Jake went to heaven today. He laid in my lap as I kissed him over and over again while he left this earth. The sobs are heavy and the pain is great, but he is worth every bit of it. He went to sleep hearing over and over again "I love you so much!" By the grace of God, I was able to love him enough to finally let him go...
The furry four legged love of my life is dying. As I write this to you I can't stop sobbing, reminiscing, aching. It's an ache that there's little comfort for. The agony of knowing when the right "time" is, is really being selfless enough to let him go...
The justification process for keeping him alive is really non existent now. He isn't really eating well. He falls quite frequently now. His eyes... his eyes beg me for mercy. I yelled at him for giving me that look. I yelled at him for dying. I yelled at him because I don't want this.
We've set "goodbye" dates and passed them. We've made plans and ignored them. We've argued against ourselves about whether or not we should give him "one more day to perk up". We've looked at the events of the day and tried to decide whether or not we should push it because we have something going on. We've ignored, ignored, ignored the inevitable.
How do you know when it's time? I can't tell you how many people have said "you just know". Well, no I don't. Because what I "know" and what I'm allowing myself to "know" are not in sync. A grieving mind is a powerful tool at seeing only what it wants to see. A selfish heart is completely able to ignore how rapidly he breathes, how little he eats, how often his legs fall out from under him, how much he shakes. A selfish heart can ignore all of that or can mentally look for the one. thing that he still "enjoys" and say that's reason enough to make him endure all of this agony. And I have one hell of a selfish heart. Because I don't want to say goodbye. I don't want to take him to a clinic where they'll give him a shot and I'll walk out with his blue collar and no him. I don't want to walk into my house and not see his brown furry face. I don't want to sleep and not hear him snoring away. I don't want to sit on my couch and not have him irritating me by laying on my feet, or half on my lap.
You know the end is here when the conversations about him are all past tense.
Remember how he used to pull weeds in the yard? And he would carry them over to the rocks because he didn't want them in the grass? Remember?
Remember how he used to pick up all of the tiny pieces of trash on the floor so that the triplets wouldn't put it in their mouth?
Remember how he saved my sanity and figured out what Bruni needed when she was a baby? Remember how he rescued me from near hysteria over the endless crying? Remember?
Remember that time when he decided he wanted to be held and jumped into my lap and then had this sort of consciousness that he was massive and probably shouldn't be sitting there? But he just resigned himself to what he'd already done and decided to "roll with it" and how funny that was? Remember?
Remember how he NEVER let anyone touch the babies or Lolli, but he did it in the most gentle, unobtrusive way, so that people never realized what he was actually doing? He ALWAYS put himself between a "stranger" and our children. People thought he was just friendly, or annoying, but we knew it was really about safety?
Remember how he would kick out my giant teddy bear when Chief was deployed and slip himself in its place? He HATES that teddy bear!
Remember his last hurrah of destruction where he ate the Tucks pads? Still wonder if that was the first or final act in that day of household terror.
Remember when he fell in love with that stuffed animal bird? How he would carry it around like his puppy and love on it endlessly? Remember how he dug out the brand new one he didn't even know existed (we didn't show it to him), directly out of a pile of bags without touching ANYTHING ELSE?
Remember how he would always either spoon me, or force me to spoon him, and how the process was so slow and gradual that you'd never even know it was happening until you woke up in that scenario with him happy as can be.
Remember how he was every time it rained and he wouldn't leave the porch to go to the bathroom because of his passionate hatred of water, but if there was snow... if there was snow he was the happiest dog on the planet. He would bolt out and run around like a crazy dog, rolling, diving, jumping in the frozen water.
Remember the first time he experienced a vacuum? That thing was the devil and he was certain it had to be immediately destroyed.
Remember how he was during and after his first bath? Yikes!
Remember how he hates all small dogs with a passion, but you get him around a puppy and he becomes father of the year. He would take on this goal of protection, instruction, and leadership that was absolutely beautiful to watch.
Remember how mad he was at me when I dropped him off at the Kennel overnight because we were moving and I didn't want him getting out? How he wouldn't even acknowledge my existence for two days?
Remember when he picked Foofi up off of the ground and launched her with his nose?
Remember when Foofi would jump up on his back like he was a step stool to reach something she couldn't reach under normal circumstances?
Remember the time he dragged a Husky and a Doberman across the yard while they struggled fiercely against him?
Remember how panicked he would get every time suitcases came out, or boxes were being packed, or anything "going away" was involved? Until he realized that when we left, we brought him too and then he started to enjoy it.
Remember how when Chief left for his gazillionth deployment he would sit and lick away my tears, and hold my hand with his paw until I felt comforted. Remember how he would wrap his big furry arms around me while I slept, as if he took on this charge of physical and mental protection of me, in Chief's absence.
Remember all of the personal, and beautiful things that he has shared with each of us, igniting this magical bond between himself and humanity, that can't be shared?
He has etched his very essence into my soul. He was our first family pet. I told Chief that I believed him to be a guardian angel sent to help us. He really was the only being that could soothe our daughter when she was little. He was the one who understood what she needed when we could not. He is the one who brought me, and the rest of my family, endless hours of comfort, laughter, and love. So please bare with me as I will myself to let him go. Please pour out grace, kindness, and mercy on my devastated heart. Please pray for my children, and my heart, as we say goodbye. Our children have asked to be present as he goes off to heaven.
He came into my life with a blue collar. And short of my memories, it's about to be all that I'll have left to hold. My God, this hurts.
Edited: Jake went to heaven today. He laid in my lap as I kissed him over and over again while he left this earth. The sobs are heavy and the pain is great, but he is worth every bit of it. He went to sleep hearing over and over again "I love you so much!" By the grace of God, I was able to love him enough to finally let him go...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)