Life is rarely clear defined as good and evil or black and white. Life is full of grey areas and this is particularly true when discussing fault. Brent and I are responsible for keeping our heartbeats safe. We must keep them out of danger they don't understand. We failed to keep Gizmo safe and accept our responsibility.
Brent and I are level headed people and understand accidents happens. We've walked that off leash walk from car to house a hundred times and we knew the risks, but we never actually believed anything bad would happen.
A parent can tell a child a million times to watch for cars, but if a child gets hit by a car a parent feels guilty. Why? Because, it's a parents job to keep their children safe. It's my job to keep my puppies safe and I failed. I take responsibility. I won't blindly accept that it's not my fault and I ask for forgiveness.
I am responsible for Gizmo's death and I have to live with that. Was it destine to happen? Am I somehow less responsible because of fate? I don't know, but I am living with my broken family and fractured life. Gizmo was our glue, he was our love and our joy. I miss his so much.
I had this vision of my family over the next ten years and my vision is shattered. I can't seem to adjust to life without Gizmo. I had the most amazing family for three years and I should be grateful, but I'm lost without my little dude.
I marvel at how versatile Taz has been over the years. She lost her most loved companion: Misiu, who helped her transition from puppyhood into adulthood before he died. She grieved deeply at his absence. She stopped eating. Stopped playing and would sit in the window watching the world, but refusing to participate. Gizmo has left her, along with all the fosters that have come and gone over the years. She's spent some time sitting alone in the back porch gathering all her dearest toys and staring outside. This is her grief.
I wish I was at the phase where I could see the good and feel positive, but I'm not there yet. Give me time.
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