traveler
Today I miss Traveler.
My dear golden friend who passed away in February.
He taught me how to love. How to open my heart and let my life be something I never thought it would be.
Me. Someone who was just a little afraid of dogs. Suddenly "I am rescuing a golden." I knew that something had to shift. He was the catalyst.
A woman from the rescue called and said she had read my application and that Traveler had found his forever home.
He helped me to create space in my heart. Space to love and know that I could be loved. Unconditionally. Space to learn to love myself. Space for J. to come into my life.
I miss how he would jump up on the bed with me every morning. J. would take him out while I stayed in bed. Then after eating, Trav would climb up into bed with me and curl up in the crook of my bent knees. He would rest his head on my leg and sigh. I miss that.
This time last year we were doing everything we could to fight cancer. My grandparents were both sick - my grandfather with cancer and my grandmother was becoming ill. A dear friend was diagnosed with cancer. Then another friend. Then another. Then Traveler wasn't feeling well and I sat there in total bewilderment when they said that he had cancer too. It seemed beyond unfair. And the only thing I could control was that we would do all that we could for him. To cure him. To make his life a little better.
But he passed away. And in a way I know he gave me a gift. I started to grieve. I had glimpsed grief so that when my grandmother died I had some frame of reference. Some understanding of the crazy, empty, irrational, heart-slowing feeling that the death of someone creates.
And yes we have another golden child. Millie. Another rescue dog. With a little more baggage (so she fits right in). I am learning from her as well. Sometimes she jumps up on the bed and rests her head on my leg and sighs. And it feels like all might be right in the world for that brief moment.
But I can't help but wish that J. would come home one day and say "hey, look who was outside in the backyard." And there would stand Traveler, squeaker toy at his feet, ready to play.
(a thank you to Maureen for writing such a beautiful post about her dog Sam - encouraged me to spend some time with Trav's memory today)
on grieving (and healing)
Reader Comments (6)
How beautiful, but sad. He sounds like a wonderful spirit...and yes, it sounds like he really was a gift in your life.
oh what a beautiful dog! and what a lovely post--
fyi, I just read "Katz on Dogs" if you haven't you may really enjoy it-- I did.
And, THANK you so much for your kind support-- it helped me alot!
All the best, Elizabeth
http;//bluepoppy.omworks.com
Oh Liz. This is so gorgeous. Isn't that always how it feels with past loves of any kind? That fleeting hope that maybe they'll come back, that they're still exactly where you left them. I'm sure that Traveler (wonderful name by the way) was grateful to have you in his life. You were gifts to each other and in that way, he'll always be with you, always live on.
Oh, Liz - your story about Traveler is so heartfelt. I was with you in your memory as I read your words. Your description of how he used to jump up on your bed after eating every morning and cuddle with you -- wow! That's exactly what Sam does, but in the last few months, he needs Tim to boost him up onto the bed -- he tries, but can't make it himself anymore.
And when I stroke his head, chest, ears, chin -- he makes a groaning sound (maybe like Trav's "sigh")
I can understand your grief, the way you miss him, the way your heart now has room to love and the way you still long for the easy companionship you had with that beautiful dog. Even Millie may never be able to fill that space in your heart - but she'll help you make another big place for love right alongside the one for Traveler.
Every person (being) whose path we cross during our lives, has something to teach us, a gift to give us ... even the gifts that cause pain ... if we can just open our eyes, our hearts to see what that is. You see it.
Maureen
Oh, what a sweeeeet and beautful dog. I empathize....I love my two cats so much, I truly fear the day when they become old, etc.
The other day someone asked me how old our dog, Velcro, was - he's starting to have a little white hair around his snout. And he gets the first hugs when his dad comes home - unless I beat him! What a beautiful tribute to such a good puppy dog. I know you miss him, somehow, we always miss the dogs that have gone on before -