Today marks one week since we had to send Duke over the rainbow bridge. Yesterday, I hurt for him all day. Images of how miserable he looked last Thursday kept flashing through my mind. For most of the day, I was in despair, in tears, and wondered if I were losing my mind.
I had an hour here and there that I felt "normal." In an effort to help me, Clark suggested we get out and ride somewhere, and we ended up in Stone Mountain Park, one of our favorite places and only fifteen minutes from home. It was a cooler day, and as we rode through the wooded sections of the park with the windows down, it felt good. We had always loved driving up to the Blue Ridge Parkway when we lived in Virginia, and sections of Stone Mountain Park brought back memories of the Parkway. I felt better afterwards. I was fine for several hours, but I ended up crying myself to sleep last night.
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| This was the last picture Clark took of Duke. As usual, Duke looks like he wants to say something, like "Get that camera outa my face!" |
So, I see that I'm still on that emotional roller coaster: up one minute, down the next. I'm told that this is completely normal, but it doesn't feel normal! I'm usually a pretty upbeat gal, but I kept telling myself that this up-and-down ride was ridiculous. But today, I am more clear headed, I feel a tad more focused, and I can see that what I'm going through is normal for grief.
One bright spot yesterday arrived in the mail. An old friend from NC had told me she was going to send us something when she found out Duke had died. She sent a nice card with a comforting note inside, and below is a photo of her gift to us. (She was actually Clark's next door neighbor when they were children. so yes, we've known her a LONG time!)
What I miss about him (well, I could fill pages and pages, but I'll attempt to control myself here), is having him on my lap. Oh, Duke was definitely a lap dog! He hated being in a room by himself, and since Clark loves to work outdoors, either in his shop or in the yard, Duke and I were together a LOT. Every time I sat down during the day, he wanted to be in my lap. And I didn't mind. Oh, I'd shoo him away sometimes, but mostly, I was a woman with that dog in her lap. When he was well and felt good, I'd play with him: he'd drag one of his blankies over so we could play tug-of-war. He'd bring one of my old socks I had given him so I could put it on my hand and pretend it was some kind of animal so he could try to "get" it. He adored that sock game, growling at it, trying to bite it, etc. But if I said "OUCH," he'd stop and look at me like, "Sorry, Mom," then commence to growling/biting again.
The next time I post, I'm strong enough now to write about something that happened a couple of days before Duke started throwing up blood (gross, I know, but it happened). He was sitting on my lap, Clark had gone to run errands, and I looked at Duke on my lap--really looked at him. I began talking to him . . . oops, almost slipped and told that story.
Thank you again to all who are riding along on this journey with me. For those suffering from the loss of a fur baby, my heart goes out to you, and you are not alone. For those who are coming along because they care, thank you. It means more than you'll ever know. For those who have no clue or who think we're crazy, that's okay, too. I hope you don't have to experience this grief, but if you own or love a pet, you probably will.
Honestly, I wish I didn't have to hurt over the loss of Duke, but it really means how much I loved him. And that, my friends, is the crux of the matter: I am thankful we had Duke in our lives for ten years. Yes, it hurts now, but Clark and I will always have those wonderful memories. Our lives have been greatly enriched by having that dawg in them.
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| This is the photo we're getting in a 16 x 20 print--I believe it's my favorite one of him |
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