I did not expect all of these same emotions that I have felt from losing a human to emerge from the loss of a dog. Actually, some of these feelings are worse than how I've felt when grieving a human in the past. I am shocked to say that out loud, or to even have that thought at all.
Some might speculate that perhaps I haven't ever lost a human that I was deeply connected with, in order to say something like that, but the truth is, I have. I have lost two grandparents that I was close with, one when I was 21 and one when I was 26, a high school friend who died in a tragic accidental shooting when I was 23, and a cousin when I was 15.
I had very close relationships with all of them, in one capacity or another, but I believe what is different with Bear is that he was
literally by my side for 12 solid years. There is now a huge void in the house. An eerie still or calm, maybe. There is an obvious absence of a life. I'm honestly struggling being home without him. I even wondered if my feelings were abnormal. I read
this article that validated my feelings a bit, but because I'm so intensely analytical I had to dig deeper and figure out why mourning Bear has been so difficult.
This past week has been a time of reflection for me and a time to really grasp the chapter in my life that just ended. Bear began my adult life with me. Bringing him home at age 22, I was merely in the infant stage of adulthood. I had just graduated college 8 months prior to Bear. It was truly a lifetime ago.
I won't rehash where Bear and I came from and what we endured together. I wrote
this post a little over a year ago to discuss those feelings, but what I didn't truly realize when Bear was alive were all of the roles that he played in my life during his 12 years.
He provided me with safety, friendship, and constant companionship.
He was my eyes and ears of every house I ever lived in during my adult life. From the innocent street of south Venice, to the questionable studio in Nokomis, to the odd townhouse in Orlando, to our current gated community...he was my/our security system. He made me feel safe in nine different houses, adapting to each with ease, just as long as he had the safety of his family.
He was my most loyal friend. Ever. I have discussed on a couple of occasions on this blog about how I have been disappointed by some of the girlfriends in my life. It's no secret that good friends are hard to come by. Bear, as every good dog does, listened to me without judgment. He let me cry on him. He gave me his paw when I needed it. He was always at my feet through thick and thin. His loyalty was unprecedented.
He went with the flow of every event of this family. Whether we were living in 300 square feet or 2000, he was just happy and content to be with me. When Lily was born, he dutifully took a step back in pecking order of the pack and willingly accepted it. He was a true companion.
As I write this, these roles of his sound so simple in text but they truly filled up so much of my life, and now they are empty. It's a profound loss.
I still feel his presence at times. I turn the corner to my office and expect to see him there. I "see" him out of me peripheral everyday. I go to call for him at night, after I put Lily to bed (which has proven to be the most difficult time of the day), to come and lay by me. I want to give him his signature beckon of "pssssttt, psssssttttt" every time I drop food on the ground so he can come and clean up after me. I want to say to Lily, "Let's go home and see Bear dog", every time we're out somewhere and about to head home, just like I always have. I will hear a noise in the house and assume it's his nails rubbing the tile.
I could go on and on. If you are an animal lover and have gone through this, I know you understand all of the above.
Lily is what has been my only saving grace this week. She is an amazing source of laughter and happiness, of course. I wrote
this post on her reaction to this loss, or lack there of, but I truly thank God that she is here. These wounds would run so much deeper if she wasn't.
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So, big Bear dog....it's much too simple to say that I miss you. You were an integral part of this family. You were a staple in my life for so long.... this will be quite an adjustment. I am just so thankful that you are pain free now. I know you are enjoying popcorn and frisbees every single day. I know your sight is restored along with your muscles in your spine, hips and shoulders. I know your teeth are shiny, white, and healthy. I know you're standing proud and noble, as always, with a beautiful, glistening coat.
Thank you for all that you represented to me, Bear. I will forever be grateful for what you provided for me. Rest well and know that we will never find another you.
Love, your Mama.
