In memories and reminders
Seeing signs two years later
I never look at my phone first thing in the morning but for some reason that morning I did. I rolled over and put it directly in front of my face, the blue screen scorching my retinas as the blinds were still drawn and the morning sunlight peeked through the cracks. The headline caught my eye immediately.
“Meet Nosey Nola. This dog climbs trees and fences to spy on neighbors.”
I rolled over onto my back, still comfortably warm under the covers, and immediately clicked on the link.
“When Vanessa…”
That’s all I needed to see for a smile to form on my face, a knot to catch in my throat, and a small giggle to seep from my mouth. I skimmed the article and said “thank you my girl” out loud, knowing it was a sign from you. You don’t send them often anymore, but when you do, they’re undeniable.
Two years ago around this time things started to get bad. Your belly and dog wrists were shaved from the test they ran. Your breathing ragged and labored, your appetite waning, practically gone. I was on the phone non-stop with the doctors trying to find out what was going on, researching every piece of information I could get my hands on, giving you alternative medicine 4 times a day to try and and ease the symptoms.
Did they get back the test results? Was there another medication we could try to alleviate your discomfort? If so, how long would it give you? Would it fix the problem or just prolong it?
My own body was rejecting what was happening. I hadn’t slept for days, hadn’t eaten more than a small snack throughout the waking hours. My head knew our time was coming to an end but my heart didn’t want to face it, my whole soul not ready to let go.
I forgot what life was like without you; two years later, I am living it though.
Your body is no longer next to mine, your paws aren’t pattering on the ground, your weights isn’t a blanket on my legs at night, but that’s not the same for your soul. Reminders in news headlines and sightings of 444, mind lapses of calling Raney your name and her little intricacies that remind me so much of you.
I know you and your brother sent her to me, to help me through this lifetime that I’m in. Her innate attachment to me and the extra care I have to give to her, aspects of both of you that I am grateful for.
The years will pass and life will change even more, the seasons coming and going, the sun and moon guiding me through it all. There will never be a day that I don’t think of you, that I don’t remember the way you loved me, a day where I don’t miss your warmth. You were the first living creature that made your dad and I a family unit.
You will live with us, always. In spirit and soul, in reminders and memories.
