Water Wings

It hit me when... 
I was putting on my socks.
I was cutting the grass and I looked out on the road.
I was walking out to turn off the water pump.
I was feeding the dogs. 
I was getting the mail. 
I was planning our next puppy friendly vacation. 


When I found the little brown sweater with the buttons on it that is the same colour as Gizmo. 


It's my last thought at night before I fall into a shallow sleep and the first thought when I wake up. 


He's gone. My Gizmo is gone and I can't change it. I can't bring him back and I miss him so much it hurts.


I got the package in the mail from International Therapy Dogs with Taz & Gizmo's ID cards and information. Gizmo would have been an amazing therapy dog.


Sometimes when I'm outside and it's really sunny, I think: Gizmo wouldn't have been outside much today because he didn't like it when it was too sunny; or when it rained, but he loved the snow. He'd push his way through and you could almost hear his puppy giggle. He'd come in covered in snowballs delighted with himself. He was always so delighted with himself. 


I miss him so much. Life goes on and thing go on and work goes on, but I still miss him every moment of everyday. I can't think of much I wouldn't trade to get my Gizmo back.


My heart aches and the tears fall as I think of his chubby little body and his happy smile. I'm sad or angry or empty. I still smile, but it's only through the tears. 


I can barely hear the things going on around me. It sounds like the radio is on low and I can't quite make out the words to the song, but I can hear the noise. It's like Charlie Brown's teacher talking. I know things are happening and the world is spinning, but I'm not really a part of it. 


I like riding my motorcycle and the wind knocks the thoughts out of my head. I like going a little too fast. I like a little danger. It makes me feel a little more alive, but this is when it hits me. Gizmo hated my motorcycle. 


I have been reading a little on grief and I know everything I'm feeling is normal. I found this great quote about the ocean: Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.

I could really use some water wings.