Brown Eyes

I try to be grateful for the life you gave me instead of grieving that you are gone, but recounting our days together only magnifies my loneliness without you.  I keep wondering...where are you? Is your spirit alive somewhere? How can it just be gone?

This day four months ago, I woke up, and the tears were already there. I couldn't roll over and not see you lying there, waiting for me to get up. I couldn't roll over and not feel your nose nudging me, your tail wagging, tipping over items on the night stand.

It's been over twenty-one since I've been this long with a canine best friend. In recent weeks, I've practically memorized every profile of every adoptable dog within 100 miles. I've stopped many times at the Humane Society to see if I can meet a new friend. I've been so lonely without you, that I am beginning to wonder if it's time that I started searching more earnestly. 

I can't find anyone like you. My search comes up empty, and I'm left so sad.

I feel your absence constantly. I still see you curled up in your favorite corners. I still remember that anytime I looked at you, you'd stir and come to my side. First your eyes would open, then your tail would thump against the floor. Toward the end, I would come to you because it was so hard for you to get up and down. 

I recently read that dogs really dislike being hugged. I kind of knew that about you, but you did let me spoon you at least. You brought me such joy and comfort, just hanging out with you. You were always there, and I can't fathom or understand that you're just gone.


I haven't been able to take walks since you left me, and I know I need to get out there, back out in fresh air.  I forced myself the past few days, and it is feeling less lonely now than it did immediately following your death, but it still feels strange walking alone, and I don't think I'll ever get used to it. 

I want to think of you and smile, and to think that someday I'll see you again, and you'll be whole and well and happy, and we'll go for a long walk. Remember the summer of 2002, going to Eagle Creek and hiking for miles everyday? Two weeks before you died, we took you a rugged section of the park across the reservoir, and you were tired, but you rallied, your old spirit finding its way to leap over a couple of logs and scale a steep hill. 

Sometimes when I eat in front the TV, I think of the times you stole pizza, tacos, and cookies when we left them unattended, and I laugh. And then the laughter inevitably turns to tears. 

I'm not anxious for this pain to subside, the way I have been with other types of grief. Every tear is a crystal of a beautiful memory. I guess I wonder if I'll ever get over this, and if I'll ever feel the same again. I do miss that person. I wonder if I'll ever find another dog as good as you were, if I'll ever feel that much love and devotion again. I wonder if I'll ever be ready.