Update: Athena

It's been exactly a week since my daughter and I said goodbye to our furry girl. The pain was acute and crying at random moments, a certainty. But we got through it and the worst of it is over.

When I wrote last, it was Friday. I did eventually leave the house. I dropped off the collected dog food and treats at the kennel where she had spent many happy days of daycare and snuggly nights of boarding. The staff cried with me. She brought joy to so many. I took myself to a late lunch and sat near the window so I could watch the college students coming and going. I eavesdropped on a mid-afternoon first date a few tables away from me. It made me smile and gave me a welcome distraction. I came home and the loudly chirping birds filled the void of silence in the house. It was soothing but I was still hurting.

My original weekend plans had me in New Jersey for my nephew's First Holy Communion, but I just couldn't see mustering the energy to drive. I texted my sister to say I'd try again in the morning and planned to drive straight to the church. She texted back that if I wake up in the morning and just want to roll over, that I should; that they all understood. I felt a release in that. There was no pressure. 

The next morning, I woke up before my alarm clock. It was 4:45am. I was tired but ready. And after getting dressed and driving the four hours, I arrived just in time. When my nephew saw me in church, his face lit up. I saw him mouth to my sister, "Aunt Bonnie is here!" It was the right decision. 

The hugs were tight and the compassion overwhelming. My extended family all knew how difficult the last few days had been and made my visit that much more special. My sister suggested I spend a few more days which I did and it gave me the rare opportunity to see and spend real time with friends I hadn't had that chance to be with in decades. It was a gift. One that now that I'm home, warms my heart and gives me the strength to move forward. I am so blessed, lucky, grateful, all of it; I'm steeped in it!

The house is certainly quiet. But there is no longer pain at looking in all the corners with reminders of her (I still haven't vacuumed up the last of her fur). There is only the feeling of tight hugs and kind eyes and genuine smiles from my friends and family who loved her and love me. And that makes this moment in my life beautiful beyond just bearable.