There are times now I can smile instead of cry when I think of Sheba. When I woke this morning I heard the guy in the kitchen. It was like other mornings when Sheba was here on earth. The two of them would make coffee. Then I would hear the kibbles drop into Sheba’s bowl. I could hear her crunching- more thoughtful now that she’s older. I knew that this was in the past, but the sounds and feelings were the same. I was hearing the wonderful sounds of an ordinary morning. And I smiled.
Over yesterday and today, I’ve washed Sheba’s bowls and toys. I cried then, clinging to the doggy memories attached to these things. I will store them away. Maybe we will be graced with another tender canine heart in awhile. For now I will just be with how life is, not trying to fight or change anything. Some days are better than others but I am always making an effort. However small it is, it is my best effort at the time.
I hope I don’t sound too obsessed and depressing. I am a little melancholy by nature. I’m a little more so in my writing. It is my tool for venting and working through my thoughts, feelings and problems. I am by no means a slouch or a couch potato during this period of mourning. I still get up, dress up and show up every day. I might be operating on a slower speed.
It is another day. I’m still working on this post. I must be slow as molasses in winter. It is summer and we’ve just starting to have some warm days. I did find it difficult to get out of bed this morning. Not all mornings are equal. I was thinking there was no Sheba to get me up. So I must do it by myself. And I did. That’s pretty good, isn’t it?