I adore this photo of Gidget.
Her wise, amazing, sweet, loving, endearing self—it oozes the very essence of who she is. At first, I wrote was, but then felt called to change it because it is who she is, in life and in death.
On Saturday, May 11th, the day before Mother’s Day, we had to say goodbye to her. How could such a tiny dog leave such a big empty space? My heart hurts immensely right now, but I know that this profound and difficult pain came with the privilege of loving her too.
I had noted signs of her slowing down of late, but nothing that felt out of the ordinary, until her breathing wasn’t right. We learned she had congestive heart failure.
She was in my lap as I gently stroked her back and the top of her sweet little head, expressing to her my depth of love for her— thanking her for being my friend— and for her devotion and patience with me— especially in the last year, as I learned to give voice to a personal childhood wounding. John sat beside us, caressing her also, and telling her what a good dog she is and that he loved her, too.
When I knew I had to let her go, I heard these lyrics pop into my head, “We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.” A song by Terry Jacks from 1974 called, Seasons in the Sun. I smiled through my tears. It was Gidget letting me know it was all okay no matter what.
To feel a precious life come to an end in ones arms cracks the heart wide open. The primal depth of sorrow I feel for her loss is something I felt no shame in expressing as I held her still body in my arms.
As I slowly drove home I realized that since 1984 we’ve had a pet. There hasn’t been a day in all those years that we’ve been without at least one to come home to. It’s an unfamiliar space I’m trying to embrace now and have found myself wondering about without purpose. But that’s okay.
Yesterday, I felt called to search for a book to support me. I was led to, The Wild Edge of Sorrow by Francis Weller. So much of what I’ve already read has spoken so eloquently to what I’m feeling. I share this passage:
For the most part, grief is not a problem to be solved, not a condition to be medicated, but a deep encounter with an essential experience of being human.
Though my heart aches I understand that I must feel all of what this is.
Just like Gidget taught me to follow the threads to heal last year, I do that now as I grieve the loss of her while balancing the precious memories within each sacred moment.
I awoke at 2 am today and knew I wanted to write about her and share the news of her passing with you. A part of me continues to want to be alone, but another part of me felt called to be open to the support that will come my way.
What will I remember most about Gidget? So much…
- Her personality which was a mix of being larger than life, a calming presence, spontaneous moments of silliness, a soul wise beyond her years, and a cuddle bug.
- How she loved to lie like a baby on her back snuggled in my arms. It was our routine almost every single day at 4 pm.
- How she loved to lie in the crook of my legs, her front legs half-bent, back legs splayed out to the sides, eyes closed, ears up, and a smile that ran across her face as I rubbed her belly.
- Walks in her stroller and how often she was the epitome of a princess out on a ride in her chariot, taking in the beauty of the land around her.
- How she loved cuddle time in bed with John, resting in the crook of his arm. How he’d gently blow on her face and she’d lick his face wildly.
- Playing “Where’s Gidget?” with her. This was where I’d curl up on the floor in a ball and leave the crook of my arm open just enough that when I called, “Where’s Gidget” she’d burrow with gusto into the opening and excitedly lick my face. How I laughed when after only five minutes she was done and would have this look on her face as if she could no longer be bothered with that silly play.
There are so many more memories and they are of comfort as I move through this complex and contemplative time.
The one thing that will stay with me forever, and one I hold the deepest gratitude for, is how Gidget held an incredible amount of patience and loving space for me.
It’s the gift she gave me and that I must now hold this space for myself.
It’s time to care for me for a while now and spend more time with John. I’ve felt this coming for some time and that Gidget is my last special needs dog I will care for.
I’ve had to feel into this every step of the way and know that this is okay— even though what I’m experiencing feels incredibly uncomfortable, along with this uncertainty that looms in front of me.
Gidget helped me to see that feeling my way through it all is my best and truest compass. This is what will lead me as I continue to move forward. How do I ever thank her for that?
By trusting this path she opened for me and following it 
with conscious allowing and curiosity.
I leave you with this passage from The Wild Edge of Sorrow:
Grief is not here to take us hostage, but instead to reshape us in some fundamental way, to help us become our mature selves, capable of living in the creative tension between grief and gratitude.
And so this is what I am doing my best to be with as the waves of sorrow mixed with gratefulness wash through me.
This is the way in which I can best honor Gidget and heal on yet another level of knowing, I’m fine just the way I am.
XO,
Barbara
Embrace your grief, for there your soul will grow. ~Carl Jung
