Broken Hearted

I really miss Harry. I think about him every day. My therapist Terri says this is the price one pays for love. I wish I could say that I pay it willingly but it's kind of rough missing him so much. The other day I had a minor meltdown when I was cleaning his nose smudges off the glass patio doors. One minute I'm spraying Windex. The next minute I'm sobbing so hard that I have to sit on the floor.

Grief is painful. But necessary; I can't imagine not grieving for Harry. I keep telling myself that the loss I feel is a testament to the friendship. The greater the friendship, the greater the loss. But sometimes the grief is so intense that I wonder how I'll get through it.

But I will. Grief is universal. Talking to my friend Stacey I complained that every good dog story ends the same tear-jerking way. Stacey reminded me that it's not just dog stories; it's every story.

I've found that certain things help. Seeing other dogs, petting them, watching them play sometimes brings tears to my eyes but always a smile too. Swimming in the ocean helps. Floating on my back while the waves bob me up and down, I find it easy to enter into a meditative state. I feel completely in the moment. No past to burden me, no future to worry me. Yoga helps in the same way although lately it's been hard to get myself to the mat. Sometimes my yoga practice is like that - quiet, dormant.

Writing helps. So does reading, cooking, knitting, and daydreaming. I've been spending a lot of time at the sewing machine lately, puzzling over different seam finishes and whatnot. It's both soothing and satisfying to dream up something and then sit down and make it.

Harry used to get upset with me when I cried too loudly. It alarmed him. He would nudge me with his nose and then bark at me, as if to say, "Come on, already! That's quite enough now. Let's go for a walk!"