It’s been nine weeks, and depending on when you ask me I’ll tell you either it feels like forever ago or it feels like it was yesterday.
Regardless of how it feels, it wasn’t yesterday. Yesterday I was dreading what I had to do today, spending an hour dicing apples into tiny pieces for the charoset I am taking with me to a Passover seder this afternoon. I wasn’t dreading the task itself; I was dreading completing it without the presence of my kitchen companion.
I think if dogs could claim to have favorite holidays, Passover would have been high on Roxie’s list because of all the apples. Anytime she ever heard the sound of a knife chopping up fruits or vegetables for any reason she would come running because it always meant she’d get some healthy treats tossed her way, but Passover was extra special due to the sheer length of time it takes me to dice twelve to fourteen apples the way I like them diced.
Mourning someone who has a foreverspace in your heart, whether they’re human or canine, takes time. After the initial shock wears off and you get to “fine!” sometimes the feeling of intense loss pops up randomly, feeling like a swift punch in the gut. Or a heart pinch. Either way, it hurts. But it’s all part of the process.
I got it done. I diced up those apples and picked up the pieces that landed on the floor along the way (the ones that she would have sucked up like a vacuum, her tail wagging like crazy). I tried not to gaze over at her favorite spot on the floor between me and the stove and I played my music loud enough that the absence of her periodic, understated “woof”, the one that she quietly huffed out as a reminder that she was there (as if I could ever forget) and to say “oh, are you giving me more apples please?”, wasn’t quite so glaring.
I really am fine. Grief is a process that runs its own course and I know there will be many other times in the foreseeable future when I will miss her desperately, get through it, and move on. It’s part of life.
Today’s grief moment is over now and I’m back to smiling at the thought of her, being ever so thankful that I got to spend nearly twelve years with that crazy, trouble-making, smart, and annoyingly loud beagle.
I can tell you it will get better, but with Rosie gone almost a year I still think about her all the time. Especially because Seven makes a really bad dog.
(((hugs))) I feel so lucky to have met, and to have shared popcorn with, Roxie ❤️