Weep and grieve...
I don’t know how to share with you our hard news. Our beloved dog Lily passed away on Sunday night and we have had a week of tenderness and tears. She was old in dog years, and it seems cruel dog-years and human-years are not the same. My husband says he is six-dogs-old. We tell family stories through dogs— who escorted us and loved us through which chapters in our lives.
This week we are cast into reflection. We share puppy photos. We recall moments- highs, lows, roadtrips, hikes, beach walks, daily rituals as well as the emotional- spiritual journey of being human— the losses, disappointments, sufferings, times of resilience, triumphs.
A dog is a witness in a family, to the group and to individual sorrows the group may never know.
For us, Lily pulled us forward everyday. Our gal insisted on two, often three, walks a day. She’d follow me, stare into my mind, sit by the door, implore.
She arrived during one of the darkest times of my life. Our second beloved dog, Buddy, had passed away in March that year. My therapist begged me to get a dog, any dog, but I wanted one related to Buddy. Another hall-of-fame dog.
The five months before we got Lily were bleak. The wait almost killed me. I was wracked with anxiety, ptsd and depression. I was being attacked by an institution that said I was lying when I reported that current faculty had been sexually abusive to me and a friend of mine who was no longer living.
My faith in humanity was profoundly shaken that a boarding school would allow teachers to continue teaching when I had shared with them diary entries, photographs and letters that I had saved from the time period when I was there.
And then, Thank God, in September that year, a tiny bundle full of gigantic love arrived. Almost 13 years ago. It has been a long walk out. And Lily was there. Every single day.
Lily’s refusal to be ignored, to be put off, to be told no, to not care how much she annoyed me, meant that every day, she and I headed outside.
Lily’s daily demands saved me.
I was thrown into beauty, wind, flowers, trees… and no matter the weight I carried, my spirits were lifted as my Lily pulled me forward.
Grace found me again and again.
All I can say through tears is Thank God. I am so grateful I am here.
We are tender in my family. A few times, anger has surfaced, and we remind each other anger is here because of the pain underneath. And I remind myself that underneath the pain is love. A lot of love.
I want to be bold like my Lily, to head out into the world again and again like she did, with head held high, heart open to the beauty of the day, the scents in the wind. And I have told myself I don’t have to be like her today.
I am finding my way without her pulling me out the door and it’s hard.
I am giving myself time to weep and grieve.
The morning after she passed, I drove to a store. On the wall was a painting of women working in a field harvesting lilies. The painting was full of an abundance of bright, happy colors and the women held armfuls of lilies.
A friend sent a bouquet of lilies. I went out in the rain to receive the delivery from the florist and I held an armful of lilies. The grey day felt perfect for tears. I set the bouquet on the kitchen table and then somehow, through a break in the clouds, through my neighbors tree that had been trimmed that morning, under an awning and then through a window, direct sun filled one lily with light.
For a moment, I felt the mystery, the other side, a lifted-veil revealing a glimpse at a beautiful space where our loved ones and our hall-of-fame pets live and wait for us.
It was beautiful.
The beauty and the tears are here. We harvest armfuls of memories of love. We weep and grieve.
And give thanks for such a beautiful spirit that called us out, insisting we leave the comforts of home and adventure out into the unknown with held high. Again and again.
And this was how I found grace.
May Peace be with you.
Kat~
Here is my song. It’s called “Lily Leaves.”
To hear/ watch on Youtube, please click here.
