Recently, I saw a Norwegian mini series about people stuck in an Oslo airport on Christmas. It had a somewhat melancholy sentiment and yet weirdly was also heartwarming.
This Christmas, I am somewhat melancholy too. I feel the loss of my dog Frodo. I miss him so. And his loss brought up the death of my father and my pervasive sadness at not being able to have kids along with so many other things I have grieved. This week, I have been waking up at 3 am and staring at the ceiling.
Now I know, I don't show my sadness often. Even to myself. But sometimes, you must be present in the sadness and feel it, really feel it.
So I picture my shih tzu Frodo, his black eyes staring at me, right before I had to let him go and I kiss his furry black and white face. And I remember my father's face on my last day with him, on the day he passed. In my mind's eye, I kiss his cheek and hug him tight, so tight. I remember the hope I used to have that I would have a child one day. And I remember letting that hope go, and I imagine the hope flying into the wind like a colorful plane and then crashing into the sea. I hug myself for that one.
And that's all I can do. I can't bring anyone back. Some hopes die. But other hopes and dreams take their place, for me it's my writing. People pass away, all of us eventually, and we can only remember them fondly.
And dogs die. Their life spans are such that we caretake for them knowing this. So this morning, I give Chewbacca extra snuggles and I talk to him about how hard it is missing Frodo, and I can almost see a glimmer of understanding somewhere deep in his caramel colored eyes.
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