Journal Entry, January 22, 2019

11 p.m.

The song “Wait” played on the radio this morning, a song that brings back the memory of laying in disbelief of what was happening beside Lucky on the floor of the vet’s office. “You realize how small forever is” – the words to another song cross my mind as I write tonight. One last breath and then only the quiet that remains in my thoughts. I see no harm in keeping his memory alive. I saw another quote recently, “I will live on you your grieving heart” – so Lucky lives on, present everywhere around us, our ties to Joel, (one of our sons) and Kari (our oldest daughter) both of whom also shared our history and love with Lucky – Lucky. Thank you for the thousands of moments together. You live on in our grieving hearts.

This morning we continued to put paint stripper on the dining room table – it’s a scary process, but too late to change our minds now. I hung some more photos on the ‘family wall’ – my great-grandparents looking grim and serious beside their dog – a sheep dog of some sort, who looked as serious as they did. A photo of my first dog Sparkie asleep on my bed – a photo of me holding a pet duck that I so clearly remember waddling behind Sparkie every time he went into the yard – our grandsons at the beach – Kathy and I young and tanned and on a backpacking trip. A photo of Lucky waiting at the top of the stairs, another of Jenn’s (our youngest daughter) dog Ace who used to swim with me in their pool. So many years and remembered moments looking out from this wall. I have six more to frame and hang and then the wall will be complete. “Wait.”

The weather continues mild and there has been little rain. I grilled a pizza for dinner – covered it with alfredo sauce – and finished the day reading by the fireplace – just the place to have finished this day that started with hearing the song, “Wait” – the place where Lucky would wait himself, curled up by my feet, and nap, or watch the flames of the fire as I read and he counted the minutes or dreamed about me setting aside a book and reaching for his leash. “Wait…before we take another breath. We’ve lived another moment of our lives and now is fast becoming then…” Wait.