What Remains

 Having a dog is a way to hang on to all the love you had to let go. 

A first love who broke your heart.

A childhood pet who was hit by a car.

The one you thought was your friend, but wasn't.

Your first car that took you places, showed you the big world.

Having a dog is a way to hang on to all you lost

A father who suddenly died too soon.

Trust that was broken.

Ideals you once held.

A mother who taught you  love.

Yourself.

Religion that became like an exclusive club.

A diamond that fell from its setting.

The beautiful daughter you wish you had loved much better...the joy of your life.

The son you wish you had loved better, who was your heart.

Your youth.

The idea you had more time.

The comforting belief that death was still far away.

A poem I've always loved, is a poignant way of expressing my thoughts thoroughly. But I'm changing one word...God ..... I'm turning it around.

The Girl That Lost Things 

There was a girl that lost things—

Nor only from her hand;

She lost, indeed—why, most things,

As if they had been sand!

She said, "But I must use them,

And can't look after all!

Indeed I did not lose them,

I only let them fall!"

That's how she lost her thimble,

It fell upon the floor:

Her eyes were very nimble

But she never saw it more.

And then she lost her dolly,

Her very doll of all!

That loss was far from jolly,

But worse things did befall.

She lost a ring of pearls

With a ruby in them set;

But the dearest girl of girls

Cried only, did not fret.

And then she lost her robin;

Ah, that was sorrow dire!

He hopped along, and—bob in—

Hopped bob into the fire!

And once she lost a kiss

As she came down the stair;

But that she did not miss,

For sure it was somewhere!

Just then she lost her heart too,

But did so well without it

She took that in good part too,

And said—not much about it.

But when she lost her health

She did feel rather poor,

Till in came loads of wealth

By quite another door!

And soon she lost a dimple

That was upon her cheek,

But that was very simple—

She was so thin and weak!

And then she lost her mother,

And thought that she was dead;

Sure there was not another

On whom to lay her head!

And then she lost her self—

But that she threw away;

And Dog upon its shelf

It carefully did lay.

And then she lost her sight,

And lost all hope to find it;

But a fountain-well of light

Came flashing up behind it.

At last she lost the world:

In a black and stormy wind

Away from her it whirled—

But the loss how could she mind?

For with it she lost her losses,

Her aching and her weeping,

Her pains and griefs and crosses,

And all things not worth keeping;

It left her with the lost things

Her heart had still been craving;

'Mong them she found—why, most things,

And all things worth the saving.

She found her precious mother,

Who not the least had died;

And then she found that other

Whose heart had hers inside.

And next she found the kiss

She lost upon the stair;

'Twas sweeter far, I guess,

For ripening in that air.

She found her self, all mended,

New-drest, and strong, and white;

She found her health, new-blended

With a radiant delight.

She found her little robin:

He made his wings go flap,

Came fluttering, and went bob in,

Went bob into her lap.

So, girls that cannot keep things,

Be patient till to-morrow;

And mind you don't bew

eep things

That are not worth such sorrow."

George MacDonald 

Having a dog is a way to hang on to all you've lost.

Not because a dog replaces what is gone.

But because all that love still needs somewhere to live.

And somehow, it finds a home in the heart of a dog.

 

 

Heavenly Day from Milo

 Just a short blog today. But I wanted to share...I dreamt of my boy Milo. I have had dreams about Tasha and Rosco, but I can't remember if I've had one about Milo. Usually, if I feel a "connection" in my dream, I don't forget it. This time I felt it!

The dream was incredibly special. And these types of dreams take me to a place, a place I can feel. Another place, another time, somewhere. It was just him and me. He ways laying as Milo always laid, frog like. I went up to him and stroked his back and sides and told him he was perfect, told him he had a perfect body. I was so happy. He looked so content. Rosco was lying next to him and I reached over and pet him. But I was focused on Milo. I remember saying how soft he was. How perfect.

I miss him so much. It's been over two years and my heart still aches. I believe when a dog dies, they take a bit of your heart, and you never, ever get it back. At least in this life. So many dogs and cats I've loved have gone on, and the love they gave me is permanent, is part of me. It's made me a better person.  Even though the aches, pains, and regrets...so many regrets...remain, the price is certainly worth it.

Hey Milo,

Thanks for the sweet visit last night. It shows me that you, your love, and your individuality didn't die, but will live forever. Because you own, and have taken, so much of my heart with you. Which means I'll live forever in your sweet little soul. 

I really believe that you sent Enzo and Elliot into our lives. Definitely you sent Elliot. For sure! I thank you for that. I hope that when I cross over, you'll gather all the dogs and cats  who have a part of my heart together to greet me. And you'll be in the lead...please lead them with Tasha by your side. Because she loved you so much. When you died, she wasn't the same. She died shortly after you, as Rosco did.

 God! I love you Milo.  Your life and death have taught me so much. I'm sorry if I hurt you in any way.  I really am. Could you tell the others the same? 

Love you my boy. Until we meet again,

Your mommy

She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts. George Elliot

The Anxiety of Loving Your Soul Dog

I've written about Elliot before. He's my soul dog. For those of you who need the definition, here's the best one I found:

"A soul dog refers to a dog with whom a person shares an emotionally deep connection, often described as a once in a lifetime bond. This relationship is characterized by a mutual understanding and profound impact on each other's lives."

Indeed!!! There are so many beautiful gifts this kind of relationship has to offer to the human and, of course, the dog. 

However, there are, of course, concerns. Deep concerns. For example: I'm retired, which means I'm retired and home 24/7. That's by choice, because I've learned that being a dog parent should be taken seriously.  Believe me, I take it seriously.

Which leads me to my dilemma.  My amazing twenty year old grandson dropped out of college to pursue his music career. (I'm so proud of him. It's a gutsy thing to do.) He became the lead singer and bass player of a band in Flagstaff, AZ. They have quickly become a local favorite and are now being paid for gigs. Recently, they landed a pretty big job as one of the bands playing at a huge venue, the Pepsi Arena in Flagstaff.  The whole family is going. 

Pets are not allowed at the arena and now we are looking for a trusted pet sitter. There's also Enzo to consider. But I believe Enzo will be fine. He'll warm up to a sitter, especially if she feeds him on time. Elliot will probably do the same; especially if lots of treats are involved.  

Yesterday my husband booked a hotel room for us and my anxiety level hit the roof. As the date is quickly approaching, the trepidation I feel is manifesting itself in thoughts of dread and "what if"s. "What if Enzo bites, or Elliot doesn't get his sun screen on his nose. What if they bark constantly ????" 

You get the picture. Yet, even writing this down helps ease the scenario  from certain trauma for all involved, to seeing the anxiety monster shrink and admit defeat.

Still...

So there ya have it. My grandson has such an amazing talent and anxiety about Elliot and Enzo aside, I'm beyond excited to hear him and watch him play. I hope I live to see his clear talent provide a living for him; a good living. And I hope that when I'm gone, he'll know that his Poppy was there, rooting for him the whole way up!

 

Dear Dad...

 Where are you when I need you??? I mean, there were a few times, right? ?  I could count on one hand really. But when the world is blowing up, a girl wants her dad to tell her that we'll survive.  But, it was mom who was always there for me, not you. 

Still, I feel like that little girl during the Cuban Missle Crisis. You were serious and wouldn't talk about it around us. You seemed to carry the load. But the load is so much heavier now, and I'm an adult carrying the load. I have no idea how to carry this one!!!

This is short today. I've said all that I can. So, I'll end with a DMB song... course.

"The world is blowing up

The world is caving in

The world has lost her way again

But you are here with me

But you are here with me

Makes it ok

[Verse 1]

I hear you still talk to me

As if you're sitting in that dusty chair

Makes the hours easier to bare

I know despite the years alone

I'll always listen to you sing your sweet song

And if it's all the same to you

I love you oh so well

Like a kid loves candy and fresh snow

Love you oh so well

'Nuff to fill up heaven overflow and fill hell."

The Haunting

 Dear Dave,

It's been 57 years since you died. What a horrible moment! A moment, a time of extreme anguish for so many. For me. It's taken me a lifetime to process the grief, the questions, the loss.

Since your death there have been so many moments, dreams and experiences that point to the idea you're still with me.  The word haunting means having qualities such as sadness or beauty that linger. It's not that scary definition I used to believe as a child, it's a quiet, sad, lingering feeling; it's a string of strange experiences that point to the idea that you're around, that you're still with me. If I listed them here, it would be too much to write at the moment. It would be a book in itself! 

So many dreams, songs that hit a place in my soul, vivid encounters that are incredibly 'other worldly'. Just for the sake of others who read this, I'll list one experience that was especially unexplainable. 

It was in the early 2000's, I was living in  Kansas City, when one day, while driving home from work during rush hour, on a busy street it was literally stop and go traffic.  In the lane next to me, on my left was a 1967 GTO. That's what you drove, a 1967 GTO.   Traffic was now moving slowly, around 25 mph.  There was a car behind the GTO, and the car behind it was ANOTHER 67'GTO. It felt, I felt, other worldy' for sure. I believed it was your way of saying that you're here.

Anyway, I know that we're connected. It just obviously  wasn't meant to be that we would share our lives together.  Yours was cut so short. I'll never understand why you were taken so young. Even in my intense grief, my 17 year old self, I felt the pain your mother must have felt, the pain your father felt, and the pain your brother Larry felt. 

In almost seven months I'll be 75. Unbelievable! I've been happily married for 50 years in July. (Well, some years were more difficult than others.) But since the day I met you, you have always been in my heart, in my soul.  

I had a dream last night about a friend of mine who is now gone. For some reason, one train of thought about the dead led to another, but those thoughts always, ALWAYS, wind up with you.

It's strange, because I can't say I miss you, but I can say I have always and will always wonder 'what if'. I'll alway have questions. One specific question is, was our young love really what I remember? Did you really love me? 

Two or three nights before you died, I broke up with you. Our relationship was turning real sour, toxic. We had been together close to two years.  Yet I mustered the courage to break up with you. I felt empowered when I did that, very sad, but empowered.  

Then, you called me the night before you died. I'd been here before; you were going to pursue me, I'd cave, and we would wind up getting back together.  But I told my sister, who answered the phone, to tell you I didn't want to see you again. That night, I had a dream that you were in a helicopter accident. The only person I told about that dream before you died was my father. 

The next night,  you were riding around in your friend's jeep. Mike was driving, he took a corner too fast, skidded, and you were both thrown from the jeep. You died at the scene of head injuries.  

The second question will always be, what would have happened if I had answered the phone that night. And no, I can honestly say I don't feel guilt, at least not most of the time. I just wonder. 

Well, I need to get back to my 74 year old life. I still love you, because love never dies, even imperfect love.

Will I see you again? That's the million dollar question, isn't it.

From my heart,

Peggy

The Not So Thankful Thanksgiving

 The day before Thanksgiving and these truly are thoughts and words from my heart. 

When I was an idealistic, naive child I believed all things adults told me. I was eleven years old, just started wearing a bra, when I discovered there was no Santa Claus. Yep, I was devastated, like a kick in my gut. 

Even earlier, I was probably around seven, I lost a beautiful necklace someone gave me as a precious gift. I cried and cried. I'm not sure how long later, but I remember it was a bright sunny day. My mother called me into our kitchen, looked out the back door and said, "Peggy! Look! I see something shiny in the grass, go see what it is." Full of curiosity and wonder I walked out the door, down a step, and into the middle of the yard, guided by the small sparkling shine of the small object lying beautifully in the grass. It was my necklace. 

Clearly I was ecststic. I looked at my mother who was closely  watching, her face full of joy,  and  I exclaimed, "Mommy!!! It's my necklace!!"   

" Peggy, it's a miracle!" 

In my little mind,  it was!!!

Those two stories are exactly how we are led to believe a lot of things that just aren't true. IS there a real Santa? You tell me! Was it a "miracle" that my necklace was found? Or did my mother buy me a new one and carefully plant it in the yard  to help her sad little girl smile again?

As humans, we all want to have a happy ending.  We all want to spin or twist the truth so we can feel better; have a happy ending. Yet when will we learn that the truth always comes out?

The myth or fairy tale surrounding Thanksgiving is not an exception  to the lies we are sometimes taught by well meaning people. No one wants to believe that the things, people, communities and cultures we are a part of  have a history of slaughtering people and basically stealing what was once theirs. But that's what the Brits of the 1620's did when they claimed this land as their own. Yet here we are, celebrating their crime, acting as if the white man , yet again, is innocent.

Instead of being thankful for this land, which really isn't ours, I use this month to ponder and intentionally think about what I have to be grateful for. The list is long and sincere. But I'm going to call a wrap on this blog and send you all good wishes and love. 

As historian David Silverman who wrote the book, This Land Is  Their Land states in an interview:

"... the "myth is that friendly Indians, unidentified by tribe, welcome the Pilgrims to America, teach them how to live in this new place, sit down to dinner with them and then disappear…It’s bloodless and in many ways an extension of the ideology of Manifest Destiny.”

This relationship between Wampanoags and English settlers rapidly deteriorated, culminating just decades later in one of the most brutal conflicts in colonial history: King Philip’s War."

Dear Milo,

 I miss you so much. Scrolling through Instagram I came across something that made me think of you, that made me cry. Walking Enzo today made me think of you too. It reminded me of the many times we walked together on that same path.

Sometimes the ache in my heart hurts so bad it feels like something inside of me is being twisted...tightly twisted. Like now.

As you lay there dying, you wouldn't look at me. God! I felt like I had betrayed you. You HATED the vet. You'd tremble every time. 

I had to say goodbye to you, Rosco and Tasha in the same year. I think Tasha died of a broken heart. That was pure hell. It tore my heart to pieces and I'll never be the same. 

ANYWAY Milo, I still love you so very much. I wish I had done everything differently.  With you, Rosco and Tasha. I'm trying not to make the same mistakes with Enzo and Elliot. 

I miss you sooo fucking much my boy. I wish I could touch you, hug you, and tell you what a very good boy you are.

You will forever be in my heart!