It's taken me awhile to be able to write about our recent loss. Every time thoughts race through my mind, my heart rips as if I am grieving for a person. She seemed larger than that, even... Mainly I feel the weight of her love in my life in the quiet stillness of this house. The missing tapping and ticking of nails against the wood floors. You never stop to think about the familiarity of a rhythm until there's overwhelming silence. In your mind its shadow remains, a place holder. Your ears start to play tricks, as you ache to hear that rhythm. A jingle of toy, makes you lift your head with speed as your eyes dart to catch a glimpse of someone who's gone. You can't train yourself to become comfortable with it, to let go of searching for what's not there.
Parker asked "Mom, why is Lola's water and food still there?". I simply replied "I just can't".
I don't know how to talk about fairness. I don't know if it even exists, unless it exists only as a man-made concept. Blessings are something I can talk about. Blessings are something I can feel and possibly the only counter-balance to that shadow in my mind.
It hits every day when she's not at the window, losing her mind for me to just get my keys out, come home to her. What a blessing. Loyalty, unconditional love, soul weaving. I leaned to one side in the kitchen, anticipating a nudge of her huge ribs as she attempts to sneak past un-noticed. Some days the memory in my mind tricks my thigh into feeling her bumping past me.
We were at peace, Lola brought us such peace and warmth...
The best we could do at the end was to hold her. All four of us held her in our laps. Then I just felt shock. Still feeling it. Milo dealt with a lot of anger. Parker's shock hit days later. She begged for us to find Lola reincarnated, so we can be with her again.
photo by Sarah Katherine Davis Photography
Seamless Lola, as if she was always a Traughber :)
Her seizures returned. This time she went through status epilepticus, hours of subtle seizing. After observation at the vet clinic, they determined she had a brain tumor. I'm leaving a lot of details out, they're a little too real, heavy. Parker made this bed for Lo' and gave here a tiny black and white puppy to sleep with.
Ben played for her, this was the first time all day/night she woke up. She had medicine to help her through.
She attempted to walk, though she couldn't. So she propped herself up against the couch to play with Milo. Faithful regardless.
They all were inseparable every day.
Parker drew Lo's portrait about a month back.
I had wanted a greyhound since I was 17. Never did I realize the wonder of what I was getting myself into. She was absolutely more than I could have ever wished for.
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