Listening to: Fight Song - Rachel Platten
Another bout of missing my dog, Max. It's been two months now since he's been gone.
I attempted to take pictures on our last day together with a film camera.
I still have a love of film, kids, as cool as digital is nowadays.
But of course, all the pictures in the house were too dark and with a black dog it doesn't work in my favor.
I wish I could post pictures on here. I'd show you.
There's a basically black picture, but a white door you can barely see, and in the white space you can see my black blob of a dog. Well, I can.
No one else would know what that picture is supposed to be.
But I've seen that scene so many times over the last few years that I know what it is.
And it breaks my heart that no one else knows what that picture is of.
No one else knows.
No one else has these memories or visions of my dog in the house. No one can see it. Its just me.
I feel so alone in these feelings.
Its like your the only one that knows that someone else existed in your life so its up to you to remember them.
With losing a spouse you know there's another family out there that has memories about this loved one. But there not the same kind as your memories. In your own home you are the only one that remembers the things they did in the house, where they put the ketchup in the fridge, where they usually sat to watch TV, where they threw their socks, etc. Their parents and siblings don't go around remembering things like that because they haven't lived with them for awhile and not in your house. Leaving you the only one staring at the kitchen chair remembering when they sat there and laughed their heads off at something they heard or saw that day. No one else knows that they threw a spoonful of noodles at you that one time and how their laughter rung in your house. No one else knows the look on their face when you returned the favor. And every one of your family members who passes by you thinks you are weird for staring at a chair and/or crying about a simple kitchen chair.
It becomes an overwhelming feeling of lonelines at times.
No one else knows that picture is of my dog at the top of the stairs.
No one else knows the look on his face, in his eyes, the anticipation of "are you coming back up or are you leaving me?" wondering if he should follow me.
No one else knows the way his ears are when he seems to ask me this at the top of the stairs.
No one else knows the way he looks when he's at the bottom of the stairs either looking up at me. In this case he is always thinking about going up the stairs simply cuz I went up, even if I tell him to stay, I'll be right back.
Those are private moments I saw daily in my own house that no one else experienced and I feel sad and alone that no one else knows that part of my dog.
I know what that picture is of, but maybe a few years down the road I'll forget. But for now, that picture of blackness is labeled "I know what this is".
Of course, after losing a dog you see dogs everywhere you go. I saw the neighbors dog recently. I didn't want to touch him in case I did something weird like hug him to death and start crying. He's not even two years old and as big as my dog was.
And then I realized what I miss most:
When he stood at the top of the stairs and I crawled up them, an easier angle to sneak in and steal a kiss from his cheek as he looked down at me. The reason I attempted to take that picture in the first place.
I miss sneaking in kisses to the top of his head.
I miss kissing him.
I'm sure he doesn't tho.
But honestly, I do have to say, I am afraid to love again.
I want another animal, but I don't, because I know they will die in my lifetime.
But I've heard the first time is always the hardest and it might get easier.
"Grief never ends... but it changes.
It is a passage, not a place to stay.
Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith...
It is the price of love."