How it feels to see a new dog in my passed dogs bed
This is the part of grief I wasn't prepared for.
I thought that seeing another dog use their beds would gut me.
I actually never thought I would let another dog lay in them, the beds that are still all over the house, months after both of their transitions.
I thought when we finally opened our home to a new dog, we would start fresh. We’d purchase a new water bowl, find a new food bowl, and theirs would just live in a cabinet somewhere because I don’t have the heart to throw them away or even donate them.
I thought I would compare everything, every tiny step, every woof and detail to our pups.
But grief has proven me wrong.
Instead, I find comfort in the tiny characteristics and quirks she has that remind me of them.
Maybe I’m at the part where I’m opening up to love again without a timeline or preconceived notion. No plan of action or drawn out details as to how it’s going to happen, just the allowance of my heart giving permission to expand a little wider, my lungs, the ability to breath a little deeper.
I think part of coping with grief, maybe even healing it, is when the love you open it up to, starts to edge away at the massive chips that it created in the first place. Those jagged pieces begin to dull, they become polished with a new light, a new waxing, and instead of being rough and piercing, they become a little less prominent.
Maybe this stage of grief is the one we work towards. The part of the timeline when we allow ourselves to take a deep exhale and let the reigns go to whomever is making the magic happen.
Maybe this stage of grief is one of the peaks on the non-linear ride it so often tends to strap us into.
Maybe this isn’t grief at all, but instead, a new timeline that begins with a clean slate.
When I see our new dog laying in their beds, it feels like pieces of them are still here, and deep down I know they are. Although their presence has faded, although they physically are no longer in our house, there are so many memories and pieces of them that will forever linger in our lives, in our home, in our existence.
It brings me joy to see Raney eating out of Frank’s bowl and drinking from Nola’s. It brings me a type of grounded-ness when I see her make circles on the bed, trying to spread out the cushion inside to lay her tiny body on. It sparks the memories of their own little quirks and behaviors, and it makes me feel like they’re still here — that they’re passing on their love to a new dog whom deserves it.
Maybe one day dogs will be able to live forever, not just in our hearts, but in the physical world. For now, the memories and details are what I have to take with me, for now, I have the lessons and lasting impressions they taught me.
And for now, I have a new sweet pup to continue to pass on the unconditional love they always made sure I was aware of, by way of their dog beds and bowls.
