Ginger

I added up the bills from last weekend.  $5000 and Ginger, you were worth so much more than that.  I would have paid any price to keep you alive, here with us, and not in pain. You deserved better.  You deserved dignity at the end.  We gave you as much as we could by being with you, holding you, talking to you.  But when I’m being honest, you gave us so much more.  You gave us your love and your devotion, your attention and your warmth.  You showed concern for us, always.  I believe you tried to convey concern for yourself too, and it’ll always hurt to think about that because I missed your cues and you didn’t deserve to suffer. 

I am so grateful for you.  You healed my broken heart after so many losses.  You comforted the boys when they were sad.  You made us laugh with your weird behavior: stealing stuffed animals and humping them in front of us, dive bombing the grass and rolling around on your back while we were out for walks, surgically removing the squeaker from every toy you got within seconds of receiving it, running to the kitchen every time you heard the dishwasher door open or the knife hitting the cutting board bc there was a chance you’d get a snack, hearing the thump of your tail every time we approached you, pressing the window button in the car to give yourself maximum exposure to the wind as you stuck your head out of the window.  You were a gift to us.

From a practical perspective, Ginger was a critical element of the mental health of our entire family.  She kept us in a routine…letting her out, feeding and walking her, playing with her, resting and relaxing with her.  She embodied the way I wish we could all live.  She was absolutely, 100% present, all of the time.  She could fall asleep in an instant, and when she heard noise, she was alert and engaged.  Always happy to see us.  Always wagging her tail, even at the end of her life, when she was suffering so much.  She focused on presence and connection with her people.  She comforted us as we spoke to her through sobs, thanking her for everything she gave to us. 

We have memorialized her around the house, framing pictures and displaying them.  It gives comfort when I start a routine and then remember she’s gone and that’s not a routine any longer.  It reminds me of what matters: NOW.  It strips away the ways my mind complicates things and reduces me to my feelings, which I need to feel right now as I grieve her.  I will NEVER forget Ginger.  I learned so much from her, most important to me right now is the lesson to savor joy in life, celebrate it, exalt in it, because there’s a lot to be scared and sad about, most of which we can’t control.  But as Mary Oliver says in her poem “Don’t Hesitate”: “Joy is not made to be a crumb.”

Thank you Ginger.  May you rest in peace.  I love you and I will carry you in my heart, always.