Kessie loved to sleep next to his big sister
Today was the second day waking up without Matilda. The empty spaces and the enormous silence loomed. My little doggies, Matilda’s brother and sister, seemed to be soundlessly moving in slow motion. Matilda’s presence had been gargantuan. A lithe, graceful creature, but always accompanied by little sounds. I could never get her nails short enough, so there was the click of toe nails on the wood floor. The slight rustling of the dog bed as she did her nesting. A groan here, a chatter there. The little whimper for a treat and then the full escalation to high pitched barks for treats.
Trying to integrate the absence brings confusion. The mind cannot fathom the absurdity and weirdness of death. How can a being be in your life one minute and disappear the next? Impossible to make sense of in the beginning. Thoughts strain to bring her back. I must leave her water bowl out, filled with fresh water. Maybe I’ll find that she has returned. The shock of loss cannot let you put everything together…
Matilda loved to walk with Livvie and Kessie
Time is this thing that you know will help, and yet it drags and drags through pain. Patience and strategies for distraction are reliable companions for now.
** (Please visit Wordswithwieners.com site for a beautiful write-up of Matilda)
Pam’s blog is beautiful. It’s remarkable how many people Matilda touched and continues to reach even now. Her loving spirit and sweet nature is an inspiration.
Yes, isn’t Pam great? Matilda really was a Gandhi-like presence.
My humans and I are so very sorry to hear about Matilda. We’ve been out of town, and a bit disconnected, so we had no idea. Matilda was so beautiful and so special. We will also miss her, and our thoughts and hearts are with you.
Thank you so much. Matilda is already so missed. I will keep her memory alive via the blog, and maybe some other project in the future. Keep visiting the blog and stay healthy!
Bless you for being able to write a few words today. And how those few words say so much. You are really a magnificent writer, and it pains me that you are having to write in such sadness.
We lost our heart dog in October of last year, and everything you have written takes me back to the very empty, very dark weeks following his passing. We still grieve him very heavily, and as the one-year mark approaches, I find myself thinking about him all the time. It is only recently that I can think or speak of him without falling apart, although I’m not maintaining that at the moment.
Matilda was not my sweet soul to grieve, but I grieve with you knowing what you’re going through. I wish I could offer words of comfort, a balm for the heart, but we both know that there are none sufficient. I can only pray for you to have all the strength you need to get through this time.
I just try to believe that in the quietest moments, they are still with us. In the shadows and the echoes, in the moments when time seems hollow, our sweet angels have come back to us.
Pam, thanks so much. I ache for your loss as well. I remember reading about the wonderful pup you lost and shedding tears for you. The year anniversary can be hard. I love what you say about finding them in the quiet moments, and that they are still with us. Your writing is exceptional. It is moving, and at times, gut-wrenching, (in a good way). Much love.
I saw Words With Wieners earlier tonight. She did a beautiful post! Here’s hoping that tomorrow is a little better.
Yes, she really wrote something beautiful and kind
I understand …. her absence and quietness without her are very real for you… I feel her physical absence in my life as a missing person that was there just a couple days ago…. a quiet absence in my life…. even though I feel her presence somewhere in me……
Well said
I know Terry…. your living at home is quieter…. the world for me as I live it is quieter
Yes, it really is
I know terry, it is so real for you… in my world as I live in it, is someone important to me is missing, absent….
yes
Time is really the only thing that helps heal. Mom says that she hears the pet that just passed all the time or thinks she sees them and it kind of freaks her out. We still can’t believe it all happened so suddenly and our hearts go out to you.
Yes, all the sounds take on a unique meaning. Nothing sounds the same in the house.
I’m so sorry Terry. Thank you for sharing your grief with us and your beautiful writing. The other blog post about you is amazing. She seems to know you and Matilda so well.
Thank you so much Robert.
such a beautiful post. ((((hugs))))
Thank you Caren.
It is beyond comprehension how an animal can so fill a void in our lives, how we feel so lost when they are gone from us. Wishing you peace.
Sweet William The Scot
Thank you so much. What a truth you tell!
The quiet is the worse. Your words bring back echos of our dog Harley, he died when we were away on vacation, unexpectedly and at a young age. I still remember walking into our empty house. So quiet, so still…
But time DOES heal, for that too I can vouch. So please be strong and hang in there.
Thanks so much. Writing about it is helpful, if it does;t break everyone else’s hearts in the process.