Friday, March 8, 2013

Dear Salem,

(deep sigh to be followed by many more)

Dear Salem,

The last time I wrote, you were here beside me.  You were here by my side as you've been for almost the past year - day in, day out.  Today you're not though and it's tough.  It's been tough to absorb the last few weeks.  I still think we're kind of numb and in shock.  Our comings and goings feel different, our daily habits still find us motioning to do things that don't need to be done anymore.  Your "spaces" sit empty and I often just look at their emptiness and "leak" - you know about me leaking, Lord knows you saw plenty of it over the years.  Speaking of, just grabbed a handful of tissues - this is going to be harder than I thought...

I have to tell you, I don't know that I've ever felt so sad to lose anything in my life - I mean that.  And I think sometimes that sounds possibly crazy because let's be honest, by all accounts, you were a dog.  But I can/would argue (to those of us who knew and loved you, I wouldn't even need to explain) the "how much more" you were than that.  You were our friend, our 1st baby, a big sister, a stark example of unconditional love.  I think that may be one of the hardest parts right now.  You were so good and good to us, and yet you "asked" so little in return.  In a world where there is so little of that, it's really hard not to be devastated when you lose an embodiment of that kind of love.

I guess I should allude to our last day with you...me & your deddy, hardest thing ever.  In those days leading up, there was such of fear of "how do we know" when it would be your time to go home.  There were many tears shed the night before turning that question over & over.  That Thursday morning when you walked around my side of the bed and looked at me - well, you made it clear.  I thank you for that.  I thank you for the peace you gave in that look to let us know it was time. As you sunk there on floor beside me and I laid in bed for a moment longer, I have to say it was one of those life moments where you just don't know that you want to put your feet on the floor and start the day.  I just reached down and stroked your head and eventually put my feet on the floor.  In the last year, we've learned a lot about hard things, haven't we?  You can't hide from the day - you just brace yourself - one foot in front of the other...

There's a lot of logistics & tears from that morning that will stay between you, me & your deddy - those quiet, sacred moments will never be gone from our hearts sweet girl.  You did get to take a long ride in the truck with us - I'm glad for that, you always liked riding there.  Fitting that it should be the last ride you take - at the very least, so deserved.  There at the animal hospital - again, more sacred moments with lots of tears, lots of nuzzles and many words of love spoken softly in your ears.  We didn't want to leave you there and walking back out into the sunshine was almost blinding.  There was peace in the humanity, but the loss and sadness were gut wrenching.

Because it seemed like the right thing to do - we left and drove to one of your favorite places  - Lake Johnson.  The bright sun, crisp air and sparkling water felt like you & God saying, "it's ok".  We laughed through our tears remembering a lot of "best life" there with you.  Some excerpts I wrote on 2/20/2009 (the closeness of the dates isn't lost on me) on "finding grace" about you & Lake Johnson:

It was where we brought our Salem Belle home to when she was just a few weeks old.  We couldn’t wait to walk her proudly around the lake.  In our minds, she was the luckiest dog in the world to live in such a prime dog-walking spot!

I remember us & Salem Belle spending a Saturday afternoon on the trail that runs along the water’s edge.  I don’t know who was having more fun, us or Salem.  I remember losing my breath laughing so hard at Salem jumping back & forth across an empty creek bed - the more we laughed & encouraged her, the more determined and completely ridiculous she looked!  Afterwards we rode around & looked at houses for the 1st time - just moseying.  The dream of a home together was spawned that day.

You were always a part of the "moseying" and you were definitely planted right beside us in all our "dreams."  By every account you were with us to see so many dreams come true - our 1st house, bringing those babies home (I'm sorry - I know they seemingly 'rocked our peaceful' boat) - so many days in the sun just being "us."  You were there in the dark, on that top step of the house, beside me as I had one hand on you and one hand on my pregnant belly, crying and wondering how on earth I was going to love you good enough once that baby got here.  I see now, he loved on you so good from the time he got here that I didn't need to worry so much.  

Speaking of him, yall were so blessed to have each other.  I was taking him and Lucy to school the other day and "How Great Is Our God" was playing in the car.  When we walked in the door, he tugged on me and I bent down to eye level with him as he said, smiling "that song made me think of Sae Sae" (big heart sigh) - I carried those words, that smile & his faith with me all day that day.  He's a good soul.  I think having a good dog has something to do with that.  Thank you for always been so good and patient with him - he misses you too.

Girl, I have to tell you, we're just really sad and a little lost without you.  A sunny day, a walk outside, when we open the front door, when we take a weekend trip, when we wake up in the morning, when we go to bed at night - you're there in all those moments, except that you're not and that's what makes this so hard.  We're trying to find us without you and I don't know that we'd have ever wanted to do that.  As I said before, we wanted our own happy ending and we wanted more time.  We didn't get what we wanted in any of that.

Silver lining - you know how I search for those.  Your suffering wasn't long and painful - you still had so much dignity and grace.  We're thankful for that.  The outpouring of love from far & wide was amazing - you were so very loved & will be missed by so many.  We're not alone in our sadness & I'm thankful that your goodness was felt by so many.   

I don't know what else to say...my words feel a little inadequate, they can't paint the whole picture - not that they need to, I guess.  The memories of you will stay alive through pictures, videos, stories, laughs, tears, sunny days and more best life days ahead - I know they're coming.  Your place in our hearts is forever etched and I know your name will pass our lips more than I can say.

Thank you for being our sweet girl, a best friend, a leaning post, a loving welcome home, a quiet assurance of peace and love.  Ironically, I'm sitting now in the green chair (you know I like to float around) and I just noticed to my left the little pillow reading "I want to be the kind of person my dog thinks I am" (big sigh).  I hope we made you proud - I hope we were half the people that a soul like yours deserved.  And though I know there were so many times we fell short, were impatient, too busy or distracted with whatever - thank you for being that beacon of love always present, waiting patiently for us to return some of that to you.  We may not have been the people you thought we were but I can promise we're better to have loved you and had your love in return - more silver lining.

(more sighing)

The battery's getting low, the morning is slipping away...

I love you girl, I hope heaven's grass is short & soft and the days are long & sunny.  I hope there's a pond for you to swim in and a big shade tree for you to rest under.  I hope my Pappaw's patting you on the head as he always did, even if he's still calling you "a good boy" :)  I hope granddaddy Underwood has finally got to see you up close - he loved boxers and would have surely loved you.  I hope Chester's there too - maybe he won't antagonize you as much in heaven...I bet he was glad to see you :)

This side of heaven will never be the same - we love you sweet girl...  

♥ mama

Salem Belle Fisher . 11/19/04 - 2/21/13

It is not length of life, but depth of life. ~Emerson