Grief Pangs

Sometimes I am just minding my business, doing nothing in particular, and I will think of Bubba and cry. I don't even know precisely what it is I think of. I guess that's the thing. There is no thinking, really. There is just this massive void, and sometimes, out of nowhere, I feel it.  And, man oh man, does it hurt.

And then there are specific times and moments and occasions that make the grief more pronounced. Every time Grace turns in her high chair to look at Huan's pictures, for example. Every time I find myself asking her questions that I once asked him: "You hungry?" "Want to go for a walk?"  "Wanna go night-night?" And, likewise, every time I issue her a command: "Mama kiss.""Stay." "Sit." "Gentle." "Roll over." No, just kidding. She doesn't roll over, at least not on command. (Neither did Huan, incidentally. And I have never told either of them to roll over. Frankly, I think that's just a stupid waste of everyone's time and energy.) Sometimes, particularly when no one else is home, I expect to see him waiting for me when I walk in the door, and the surprise of his absence stings. Now that it's nice out, I miss walking with him, and I miss the eventuality of watching him pick apples from our trees in the backyard. Just the other day, David felt his own pangs of grief when he mowed the backyard lawn and Huan wasn't there with him, rolling around and scratching his back on the grass and running aimlessly, joyously--jowls flopping--with sticks (ok, logs) in mouth.  Just this past week, I had a bad day, and I cried because I was overwhelmed. And then I cried for Huan, because I thought of how much I would have loved to cuddle him, how he wouldn't have judged or made demands of me, how he would have been my one comfort. Every time I see his box of ashes, I ask myself, "How can a 200 lb. piece of my heart be reduced to THAT?" Every time I am around another dog who begs for food, pulls on its leash, jumps on people and bowls them over, is hyperactive, etc., I think of Huan, of how extraordinary he was, of how blessed I am that he was mine. I say the words, "He was a good dog" to people constantly. And I still tell Huan I love him pretty much every night before I go to bed and every morning when I wake up. I actually say the words aloud.

I miss my boy.