Our little Sydney didn't make it. A week after we learned he was dying, he quietly died in my husband's arms. I never got to see him again.
It will be a sad spring. He was this constant, faithful presence during all of our shared history, and it's so strange to look to the years ahead and realize there will be no little white dog trotting along on our family adventures.
I was reflecting on why the loss of a little dog should hit me so hard. When I am so surrounded by love, and family, and children, why is there now a huge hole in my heart? Children have their own place in our lives – but they grow, they are strong, they develop their own lives. Every day they are metamorphosing into new, vibrant beings. Someday they will leave, and that is the natural order of things; that is as it should be.
A dog is constant. A dog never changes, really, except to grow old, and they depend on us all their lives. A dog reminds us of what matters most in life: friendship, faithfulness, simplicity, unfettered joy, unconditional love, and forgiveness. We miss our Sydney so much.
A Poem For the Grieving
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.