Archive for 2018

Was it really us?… NM

Thursday, December 27th, 2018

“There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief” ~ Aeschylus ~

Spirit and I

My favorite photos!…

It is early morning, for me anyhow, and sitting at the end of my sofa waiting for the coffee machine to do its thing, soon a welcome beep. Took my morning meds while I crossed off AM on my kitchen erase board leaving PM for tonight and as I wait I am staring at Spirit’s what I call shrine. I remove my eyeglasses for a minute or two, enough time to wipe off a couple tears rolling down my cheeks, a paper towel to the rescue please as my nose is suddenly stuffed up. It just does not add up this morning. Heavy rain going on, one of those days we would have had to stay in the tent probably for interminable hours. But no, I am in a house, dry and warm and cozy as finally the coffee machine sends me the message and it is ready to go. It just again does not add up. I cannot “not miss” Spirit. It just does not work that way. I don’t have a shrine for Lance. I don’t even have a photo of him up on any wall. I can’t. It is way too hard. They are in my office files. I don’t have a shrine for my Mother as I also can’t. Just a couple small photos of her out on some shelves. Maybe I should not have a shrine for Spirit. I love so deeply all my departed “loves”, not one more than the other but Spirit was special. 14 years, 24/7 as they say. Without being physically attached we were. I know… most will say “it is just a dog!”. Yup… just a dog my Friends. You don’t have to know anything else. It was and is my Life, my privilege, my gift, ours for all those years and still is throughout this present.

Running down the road 

I cannot lie, it is hard! Harder than hard. It is painful, it is lonely, it is as Life is now incomplete as “it is” incomplete. I have realized long time ago that even though my Lance lived 26 years and my Mother 86, I never spend as much one on one time as with Spirit throughout the 14 years we were together. Roughly 5100 days, 123,000 hours… Do you realize how well two individuals get to know each other when together as such for so long? I always joke that we didn’t even need to talk anymore! Maybe like those couples who have been married for 50 plus years, something I personally cannot even imagine. The eyes. It was of course always the eyes. They were our communication, with his ears his radar. When at The Oasis or anywhere else for that matter when supposedly asleep a few feet from me, and this turned into some form of a game, for me anyhow, I would try to quietly move, walk away while looking at him and sure enough one of his eyes would open up and keep track of my movements. If I was going too far he would get up, probably thinking “Oh! no, not again…”, move with me and back supposedly asleep in his curled up position. His favorite position. That is just one of our togetherness detail. There are so many more. All gone now as emptiness prevails.

Spirit and the balloons 

Acceptance is so hard, almost impossible and yet I have to, kind of as a survival instinct while keep repeating it to myself without too often a positive result. How can this be? I don’t understand. I don’t think I ever will and am I doomed living as such? What an irony just when I had the ability to offer him a real home and a car, in other words comforts which he probably did not care about and to tell you the truth I don’t either all having been a need more than anything else because of medical reasons. I often think to sell it all, leave all this behind, have another dog rescue me again, one more time, and just go. Again. I know the drill. I can mentally do it with such ease but the body is just not going to follow this time around. I really would! I feel attached by this umbilical cord to the medical profession which surrounds me as that time has arrived, that time when I cannot do without it. So it is instead a shrine dedicated to my buddy Spirit! I touch his marble etching every day and say a few kind words. Maybe he hears me? The marble is so cold unlike he was, so warm. There is no hair laying around, there are no food and water bowls, all seems so generic. I don’t lay on the floor anymore using him as a blanket to keep me warm! Oh! the so many nights we passed as such. No, he definitely was not a dog!

Spirit enjoying the ride, Utah PCTB 38

Spirit SM only

I am cursing right now. Out loud. I cannot write it because I really don’t curse but I am this morning and it is not helping. Of course not. I can pound my fists, I can scream, none will change a thing as only back to acceptance and then what? What am I doing? Nothing. Absolutely nothing only fortunate that I can write because this is my only remedy. Always has been. As another joke I tell myself at times that I should be a drunk maybe! I don’t really know what that is but sometimes it sounds good to me. I do know however that alcohol is a depressant so forget that route. Maybe a drug addict? Nooooo…. I was at one time a volunteer counselor at a drug rehab facility, many moons ago, and I know there is no future in that either. Lets not forget the money it also takes to be one! No… There is only acceptance and the now as it is while remedies do not materialize.

Classic Spirit

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Our film, our movie which lasted 14 years never stops as being on a continuous loop. I control the pause and the details suddenly emerge. So many of them! Spirit often needed to be on a leash depending where we were and with two full frame cameras dangling from my neck and his leash attached to my belt he knew what they were. As soon as I would stop to take a photo or two, the instant I touched one camera to raise it, and I don’t know how he felt it as his back was always turned to me, he would lay down! A funny thing I must say and so helpful. He knew cameras for sure especially when in his sidecar and when people approached him to take his photo. That was the only time he would not shake his head to remove his goggles which otherwise he would saving me to do it myself. He would pose proudly but looking straight forward, not to the photographer. At times, and it happened often, the photographer would exclaim “look here doggie… look here…” and that would irritate [no cursing!] out of me while I would say loudly “he is a dog, not a doggie!”. I never use the strong word “hate” because of its strength in its meaning but I will use it on this occasion “I hated to hear that…”. I always thought that every home in this country and others had a photo of him. They must have… I would more often than not look for spaces where no one was there to stop and take a break. Even gas stations which would be empty of cars! Yes, we had created a Circus for sure and by late afternoon if in an urban environment I would be so tired of it…

Mr Spirit-2

There is so much more which will never fit on this page!!! Maybe another day… The film will never stop.

Spirit and the Log

Stay well,
               Ara and Spirit [R.I.P. 04~04~2018]         



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