Patti Soldavini

Archive for July, 2020|Monthly archive page

The Paradox of Grief

In weimaraners on 07/25/2020 at 1:38 pm

olive and me

Grief is such a paradox

I think I’m hungry but have no desire to eat

I’m exhausted but cannot sleep

I want to be distracted but can’t focus on anything

I am here

You are not

I walk through the house

And you’re not in the places you should be

Not on the couch

Not on one of your beds

Not barking at the landscapers

Or the animals next door

Not barking for me to refresh your water bowl

Or to go outside and do your business

Or to lay in the sun for just a few minutes

Because I’m not out there with you

Even when you were doing nothing

You were still here

I could feel your spirit

Sometimes hear you snoring lightly

Or wriggling around on your back

Dancing with your feet in the air

Or just staring at me while I walked by

Now, your collar is empty.

Today I rode my bike

Without you

In the places we used to walk together

How can something that’s missing

Feel so unbelievably heavy

Eventually the pain will lessen

And the more recent memories

That were difficult

Will be replaced by all the good ones

Sometimes I think thinking of you is too hard

But if I don’t think of you

I’m afraid I will lose the memories

One pixel at a time

And I don’t want to lose even one pixel

I am fine one minute

And then burst into tears the next

It hurts so much

Because I am here.

And you are not.

But in the end

I hope this is easier for you

Than it is for me.

Goodbye Sweet Princess

In weimaraners on 07/11/2020 at 10:42 am

olive

Dear Olive

I can’t even type your name without bursting into tears.

For however many days I will be here without you, I will love you like the leaves love being caressed by the wind. I will hold you in my heart for the rest of my days, no less than I hold all the humans I love in my heart.

In the coming months and years, I will endeavor to recall all our good memories; our adventures together, and how we enriched each other’s lives. Thank you for everything.

Thank you for always making me laugh with your very human-like expressions and behavior. Thank you for making me more open to people. Thank you for tolerating all the photography sessions—both formal and informal—to capture your beauty, your grace, and your sense of humor. Thank you for being the beta to my alpha—even though you barely passed puppy kindergarten because of your natural inquisitiveness and exuberance—but went on to pass all your other classes, even earning your Canine Good Citizen designation. Thank you for protecting me with your powerful and intimidating bark. Little would any trespassers know that you would most likely lick them to death. Thank you for all this and so much more.

It doesn’t escape me that I chose you. You didn’t have the opportunity to choose me.

I chose to love you, to be responsible for you and to give you a good life. This was never more apparent to me than when your breeder required that I fill out an extremely detailed evaluation form that included the question: “What are your plans and goals for the dog?” My response was: “for the dog to be well-trained for its own safety and my peace of mind, to have opportunities to engage with other people and other dogs, to have opportunities to play, and to be happy, feel safe and loved.” I believe I fulfilled what at first was an obligation, but really was a privilege of the most extraordinary kind.

You were the most magnificent dog. I am so grateful that I got to be your companion and guide in this life—and to be with you in good times and bad—and especially at the end. I could never be anyplace else but at your side.

I always knew this day would come. I knew it would be heartbreaking. I didn’t expect it to be this painful. I am grateful for every single moment I had with you. Goodbye my sweet princess. Until we meet again…

Love, Patti

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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