Echo

May 20, 2009

I had put her things away carefully in January. This afternoon, while we were doing a little spring cleaning and taking the plants outside for the summer, it should have come as no surprise that they would appear in the chaos. Still, that moment where I lay her collar down, and the tags clanged against the table top with an issue of finality as they came to rest, splaying open, displaying her "I AM DEAF" blue bone...well, that was a hard moment.
Alfie passed away exactly four months ago today, and she always had a great sense of timing. Very fitting, then, that she should stop by for a visit (of sorts) on this momentous day. Has it really been a third of a year that my little girl has been gone?
I held her collar and leash for a moment; envisioned waving my arms in the air (our version of "come", as our many dog beach friends will smilingly attest); imagined securing the snap around the empty air where she once would have been; remembered how every morning, we would make our way to the dog beach where my Biddle would transform into something wondrous -- wild, shoe-nabbing lunatic, gentle but firm baby bodyguard, coffee-cup thief, beach bum snoozing in the sand and sun -- and then I had to let go of her collar and let go of the memories, because I was too sad to remember anymore.
There's so much to say about you, Sweetheart, but I can't, not yet, so I'll just say quickly...I love you. Come back and visit soon. Mommy misses you very much. You are always in my heart...