When I was 17, I jumped out of an airplane (with a parachute). I will never forget those first few seconds right after I jumped when I couldn’t see, hear, or even make any noise – it was as if everything had gone white. The closest I have ever come to feeling that life ending panic happened 0ne year ago today as I comforted a Herbert and told him he was such a good boy, such a strong boy and that he could run free and he could go and chase whatever he wanted. After he was gone, everything went white. I remember bits and pieces; I remember crying about how unfair it was and then in the next breath saying the world isn’t fair, I remember sitting on the side of the road at the vets office while my then boyfriend/now husband took care of the arrangements wondering how I got there, and lastly I remember the vet calling to tell me the necropsy revealed an embedded grass barb in his esophagus was the root cause of the whole thing, and I remember coming home and laying in the grass wondering how I was going to keep going and I remember that Piper was the first thing that made me laugh after Herbert’s death.
It’s been a year now. I still think of him every day, but it doesn’t stop my heart when people ask where he is anymore. I’m starting to remember the good things about our too short time together, instead of just the end.
I’m incredibly grateful to everyone in my life who knew him and loved him and there are new people in my life these days and I wish with all of my heart that they could have met him and seen what an amazing dog he was. He was loved by many and I miss him so very much.