Dear Maggie,
It’s been a month. It’s been one of the longest, saddest months of my life. If I’m being honest, I’m wondering when the hell my sadness will dissipate… or maybe just become more tolerable.
I picked up your ashes a few weeks ago. They were heavier than I thought they would be but, then again, you were a big dog. I have part of your ashes in a pendant that I wear around my neck every day. It only comes off when I shower, swim or workout so you’re always near my heart… which is right where you belong. It’s where you’ve always belonged: by my heart (and by my side when you were alive).
I watch videos of you all the time. I laugh when I see drool pour out of your mouth when I made you sit for butter. Remember the time your dad and I did the treat test? Chicken, cheese or homemade dog cookie… which would you take first? We did three tests and switched the order each time. Turns out you went for the chicken twice and then the cheese once. The cookie was always last. So, you were a chicken or cheese girl… it makes sense.
Sometimes when I open the fridge for cheese or butter, I expect you to fly out of bed and anxiously wait for a piece. Anytime those two things came out of the fridge you would fly out of a cold, dead sleep to get some. I miss that. You’d also fly out of a dead sleep when you heard your collar jingle. You knew what that meant… time to go for a walk with your mom. I miss our walks.
I think that I want another dog but then I think… no… I just want you back. Will I always feel that way? I know we’ll get another dog eventually but I can’t help but wonder if I’ll always compare her to you. Part of me thinks yes and part of me thinks no.
I do have a confession to make though. Remember that time that you were laying in bed right after you’d be diagnosed with cancer the first time. I was on the phone with Cory’s mom crying about it. You got out of bed, walked to your toybox, grabbed the cutest squeak toy ever, walked over to me, dropped it in my lap, looked at me with your sweet and worried eyes then went back to bed. Remember that? You were trying to take care of me. I’ve slept with that damn toy every night since you passed.
After you had your leg amputated we started calling you ‘Thumper’ because we could hear you hopping down the hallway. It was a cute sound. You were such a trooper. Sometimes I’d sleep in a little and your dad would tell you “go get her” as if you were waiting for permission to wake me. I’d hear to the sound of you hopping towards the room followed very quickly by your entire head burrowing under the pillow to find me and rouse me awake. I miss that. You were the best alarm clock.
I’ve learned from my counselor that I need to allow myself to go through the grief process which is something I’ve been doing on and off. At times I feel like I need to justify my sadness to myself and others which is so dumb. I must walk through it. It’s the only way to get better… at least that’s what the counselor said.
Anyway, just wanted to say hi, I miss you and maybe you’re looking down on me with four legs.
Love,
Your Mom
Maggie and me 