I stood by your bed last night,
I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying,
You found it hard to sleep.
I whined to you softly
as you brushed away a tear,
“It’s me, I haven’t left you,
I’m well, I’m fine, I’m here.”
I was close to you at breakfast,
I watched you pour the tea,
You were thinking of the many times,
your hands reached down to me.
I was with you at the shops today,
Your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels,
I wish I could do more.
I was with you at my grave today,
You tend it with such care.
I want to re-assure you,
that I’m not lying there.
I walked with you towards the house,
as you fumbled for your key.
I gently put my paw on you,
I smiled and said ” it’s me.”
You looked so very tired,
and sank into a chair.
I tried so hard to let you know,
that I was standing there.
It’s possible for me,
to be so near you everyday.
To say to you with certainty,
“I never went away.”
You sat there very quietly,
then smiled, I think you knew…
In the stillness of that evening,
I was very close to you.
The day is over…
I smile and watch you yawning
and say “good-night, God bless,
I’ll see you in the morning.”
And when the time is right for you
to cross the brief divide,
I’ll rush across to greet you
and we’ll stand, side by side.
I have so many things to show you,
there is so much for you to see.
Be patient, live your journey out…
then come home to be with me.
The tears are coming freely today. I ordered a book a few nights ago called Dog Heaven. It was on the front porch this morning. It’s a children’s book but had a lot of good reviews. It was very sweet and helped me paint a nice picture of Penny peacefully there. I’ve seen this poem before and right now it’s offering even more comfort than the Rainbow Bridge. I want so badly to feel her with me. To hear her toes clicking on the hardwood floor. Or her tags jingle as she runs. Today is a “too soon” day. I have days when I feel at peace with our decision to put her to sleep. Other days, like today, I feel like I should have tried harder. I should have fought harder for Penny. But then I remember her eyes looking up at me after the seizure. She looked so sad, so lost. I had prayed for a sign to know it was “time” and that morning, on the floor in the dark her eyes told me she was tired. When I think about her eyes, sometimes I feel like I waited “too long.”
It’s always amazed me that after someone close to me dies, life goes on. Even when you feel like your world has totally stopped – you still wake up, go to work, take care of children, eat, sleep – though poorly, function. All with a heart in pieces. I am grieving for her more than I have for people that I’ve lost. Maybe because she was a constant and here. You learn to love people in your life from far away. Grandparents you don’t see every day. Miles between you but the love is still there. It was different with Penny. There weren’t many times in our 8 years that we were apart for long. Maybe that’s why the emptiness is so profound.
When I take Miles for a walk, my other hand instinctively still grips a leash that is not there. I’ve stopped expecting to see Penny when I get home. But the emptiness is still here.
Part of me feels like her death was a signal that it’s time for serious changes. Home is not home anymore. We’ve wanted to move for awhile but now I have this primal urge to empty out this house and be done with it. Change has an awful lot going for it – even when it seems scary at times. A new house won’t make me miss her any less but I think mentally I will be in a better place at that point.
Before she got sick – I couldn’t imagine life without her. And now that life without her is a reality – I hate it. I hate life without Penny.
I miss my girl.