I don't typically write posts on Sunday nights. But sometimes inspiration strikes. I have chosen to heed it. A few weeks ago, I wrote a post on the loss of our precious pooch, Peregrin Took. My grief is much diminished now, though a little emptiness still lingers in our home. Now slightly distanced from the heart-stopping sense of loss that immediately follows death, I have been reflecting on what this experience has taught me. Death is a harsh teacher, but a teacher nonetheless. I don't mean to diminish or make light of the unimaginable grief of those of you who have lost spouses, children, parents, or anyone on two legs who was a major part of your life. I realize that Pippin was just a dog. Nevertheless, he was part of my family and I loved him. I believe we can learn from our trials whether they be large or small. Perhaps in the grand scheme of things, the death of a dog is a rather insignificant trial. But I have chosen to learn from the experience whatever it is that God is trying to teach me. The main thing I have learned is actually a cliche. It is something that has been spoken, sung, and turned into poetic verse so many times that it may seem trite. The thing that I have learned is that life can be short and that it is precious. See- told you so. Let the eye rolling commence, but perhaps, read my explanation when the eye rolling is complete. This is something I already knew. It has been taught to me in the form of long winded poems and twangy country songs since I can remember being able to understand the English language. But, I have now begun to learn this truth for myself in a very real, concrete and painful way. Truth is not truth until we discover it for ourselves. Harriet Beecher Stowe wisely observed that, "The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone." I know now the truth of those words because I have shed such bitter tears over the grave of a four legged friend. When Pippin died, I grieved because he was gone. I grieved because I would no longer see his furry black and white Ewok head pop up in the front window when I came home. I grieved at my childrens' first taste of death. But the bitterest tears I shed were tears of remorse. How many times over the past two years did I resolve to walk Pippin more, to brush him every day, to let him sit on my lap more even though his breath smelled like a landfill? How many times did I vow to be a better dog owner? Then a week would pass.......soon a month would pass. And I would rush madly about the business of life as Pippin sat alone in his kennel or chained up in the back yard. The day he died, I shed a tear for every doggy biscuit I should have given him, for every morning I should have dragged myself out of bed to walk him, for every time I should have stroked his shaggy fur and told him he was a good boy. I was consumed by the grief of all I should have done and could now never do for my loyal friend.
The thing is, I'm generally pretty good about letting people I love know that I care. It is actually something that, until recently, I have hated about myself. Let me explain. Any of you who are long time followers of my blog probably realize by now that I am a sentimental, idealistic, hopeless romantic to the core. In other words, I am the kind of person who would get chewed up, spit out and then stomped on by the critics, skeptics and realists of the world. I still hand write a letter, a thank you note or a birthday card at least once a week for someone that I know. You, see, I have this crazy notion that people like to feel loved and validated. I try to help them feel that way. Sadly, I have found that this does not make me cool, powerful or important. Strange, but it has taken the death of a dog to help me realize that I don't really care to be any of these three. These days, thanks to social networking and video sites, anyone and everyone can be famous for at least fifteen minutes. Mediocrity is celebrated. Idiocy wins people a guest slot on a talk show and an all expenses paid trip to a tropical island. Mean-spirited and demeaning media is lavished with critical acclaim. If these are the things that make people famous and important, well then, thanks but no thanks. For most of my life it has been my dream to become a published writer. And yet, I know that I don't have a thick enough skin to handle the repeated rejection and harsh criticism with which my attempts would undoubtedly be met. But why do I care about becoming a published writer. Is it perhaps, just maybe, because then I will feel important? I have decided that I will henceforth write for the sheer joy it brings me and in the hopes that something I write may be of benefit to someone who actually loves and cares about me, and not in the hopes that I will one day turn out a cross-species adolescent sci-fi love story that will captivate readers worldwide. If this happens someday, it will come as one of life's unexpected perks. But I adamantly refuse to "grow a thicker skin" or to harden myself and become jaded. With the sarcasm, skepticism and cynicism which the world is so rife with, perhaps a little fluffy oversentimentality is just what some people need to hear.
I fear that sometimes we don't express our true feelings to those around us because we don't want to come off as "mushy". Well, I say, bring on the mush! I still have a little hollow in my heart carved by regret for words unspoken and deeds undone. And that is over a dog! How I would hate to experience that bitter regret over a person in my life. Through losing Pippin, I have come to realize that my soft heart and sentimentality, while it may cause occasional eye rolling, and perhaps even brief bouts of nausea, is a good thing. I resolve this day, to say "I love you" more, to express my gratitude more often to those who have made a difference in my life. And I will start this very moment. To all of my blog followers, thank you. You have no idea what it means to me that there are people who support my writing and who perhaps even gain a little perspective from it. It has helped me to start believing in myself for perhaps the first time in my life. To my parents, who I know follow my blog: You have made me everything I am. You have filled my life with cherished memories and taught me what it means to be a good person. You have given me roots and wings and I can never thank you enough for your sacrifices. I love you so very much. To my sister, who I know also reads my blog: You have been my best friend since I could walk. You were my girlhood playmate, and as we've grown, even through the distance which has sometimes separated us, and the busyness of everyday life, I have always known that I could turn to you for anything. That means the world. To my Gram, who I know follows my blog, because she always remarks the day after reading a post, how much she loved it: Thank you for your unwavering support, for being hands down the coolest grandma who has ever lived and for providing me with life experiences I will never forget. Thank you for sharing your wisdom with me and for always believing in me. To my uncle Doug: You have been one of the biggest supporters of my writing since I began this blog. You are always there for my children's birthdays and for other important events in my life. Thank you for all of your support and for the laughs.:) To Kate: You define the word friend and you are really more like family. Your unfailing love and support give me strength, and your example is a beacon of hope to me every day. To Sweelin: You also define the word friend for me. You are someone who I know will always be in my life. Thank you for your friendship, love and loyalty. You are one of those rare people with whom I can completely be myself. To Jo Jo, Amy , Carlie and Katie: I am so blessed to have married into a family and gained four new sisters. I know you always have my back and I hope you know I always have yours. We have already shared so many life experiences, both joyful and tragic. I look forward to a lifetime of more and I pray that they will only bring us closer together. To Cathi and Craig: Thank you for always giving me way too much credit and for giving me your son! You are my second parents. Your love and support mean the world to me. To grandma K: Thanks for being an example of service and of seeing the good in others. I admire the way you view life and appreciate the way you view me! And to Dirk: Words are not enough. You are my rock and my safe haven. You are my survival. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are my best friend and I will love you forever. To my children, who may someday read this: Thank you for filling my life with meaning, purpose and joy. I live and breathe for you and I love you in a way I could never explain. To anyone else reading this whom I may have left out......thank you. I love you.
Now, here's the thing. If I died tomorrow, Heaven forbid, at least those closest to me would know how I felt. I am not now going to announce that I have been diagnosed with brain cancer and have one month to live. But life can be taken from any one of us at any moment. In the past few years, many people I love have been reminded of that awful truth through losses far more cruel than the death of a dog. I am certain that throughout my life I will feel the suffocating blow of death time and again. I will mourn. I will grieve. But I hope that I will never again shed bitter tears because I let pride get in the way of letting someone know what they meant to me. When we let fear and pride consume us, we die a slow death every day. I resolve to fill my life with more hope, more love and gratitude. If that equates to more foolish sentimentalitly, then so be it. Bring on the mush!
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