Oh my sweet Shelby … do you feel how much I miss you? Will June always be the hardest month for us? Will those memories of you breaking your leg ever leave my conscious?
I am so tuned in to how I can “block out” painful memories and yet when I woke up this morning and remembered it was the “8th” and the “8th of June” I was all too aware of what that mean. Two years ago on June 8 you broke your leg and thus began our long journey to where I am today – sitting without the love of my life and my best friend.
Fourteen months ago, you earned your wings. I released your tired body from the fight that you would have fought forever for me and that if money could have cured you, you would have lived forever … but I said goodbye on the grassy park at the beach.
I walked past that park this weekend with the new little dog. I wanted to look for a sign or something from you. There was nothing. But I now realize you were busy over the bridge greeting and getting ready to greet two new tripawd heroes/warriors – Charley and Nixon.
I ran this morning, like I do almost every morning. It clears my mind, sets my intentions for the day and soothes my soul. It’s often dark but I can always see clearly what is in front of me. No matter how much I try to use music to drown out the thoughts in my head, they are still there. I long for a day when I can completely clear my mind of any doubt, regret, pain and just feel joy for the time we had together.
But today, I felt different. I was better able to see what has been hard to see (even though I have said it, I haven’t believed it). That your breaking of your leg was a blessing in disguise. It brought me to Advanced Critical Care. It allowed me to be even MORE connected to what you were feeling (and not feeling) – perhaps that is why I knew instantly something was horribly wrong when your spleen became inflamed and didn’t just say “I’ll wait until the morning”. Maybe that broken leg months before your spleen was removed was our early warning sign that something internally was amiss – even if we didn’t find it. And perhaps, your breaking your leg and my finding this website, this forum, this group of amazing people, was another blessing in disguise.
How could I possibly know that I would need and rely so heavily on people I have never met and dogs that I have never met? How could I possibly know that I would think I could handle the pain alone but in reality, 14 months later, it still hurts like it was yesterday?
The universe works in mysterious ways … I look at photos of you now and sometimes it feels like a stranger looking back at me and I stare, stare, stare and long to feel that connection and other days, it’s like you are still there. I expect to see you when my eyes open in the morning from a deep sleep. I will fight so that your spirit, your memory, you earthly journey lives on forever. I will love you till the day we meet again and then I will love you even more!
I miss you every second of every day …. I think about you all the time and yet I am able to love, laugh and smile …. and I am strong. And that is the final gift that you gave me. I vow every day to count my blessings, be thankful for the time I have here and enjoy everything – I vow to “be more dog”. I love you Shelby Lynne! Always and forever … to the moon and back and for all eternity!
