I have sat staring at this blank page, day after day after day. It seems that there is nothing more likely to cause writer's block than grief. Of course, it could be tied to the fact that I have to stop and find tissues...or maybe just that I am not willing to say goodbye to her yet. Yet, it is something that I must do, I think. And I do want to share the wonder of my little dogs with the world.
I wrote those words almost 10 months ago. I have some handwritten essays/journal entries that I've written this year...but I have found myself unable to do more. With her death an entire era of my life ended. I feel like I have lost a part of my soul. Sometimes, like now, I forget to breathe, I forget how to breathe. I forget why I should keep breathing. And it isn't like there is nothing else in my life that is important, or that I love. My wife, my sister, my brother(in-law), my friends, my music, even my work, however disjointed that has become since I hover between Covid and retirement--all of these are rich, passionate relationships. But Zuza lived for almost 15 years as a part of me. My sister said that Zuza lived just on the other side of my heart. She was right. There Zuza sat, for hours every day, perched on my left arm, my heart beating beneath her, both of us, in our union, protected from all the dangers of the universe. I was my best, bravest self with the help of a crippled three and a half pound dog who felt that there was nothing that she could not do. Amazing. She was a Force.
I feel the emptiness there now. It is cold without her warmth, without her little head tucked under my chin.
Zuza lived from February 2, 2006 until January 21, 2021. I truly believe that she is alive now, with four sound legs, two bright eyes that sparkle with intelligence, and the ability to speak whatever language it is we will use in the afterlife,
She's waiting for me.
