Miles and miles
“An early morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.”
“And my capacity for loving and being loved has grown massively, because of, not in spite of, my grief. My life will have more depth and meaning and my light can shine brighter, because of, not in spite of, my grief. Having this time and space to really feel this, the full weight of this, will continue to lead to more and deeper love. Love so great I wouldn’t have yet formed the right scales to measure had it crossed my paths before now. And wow, what a gift that is.”
I ended Newsletter #3 with these words, back in January. I was hit with an intense bittersweetness in my bones as the words and tears came pouring out. Writing that specific newsletter felt liberating, like I’d graduated from a sad sack to a wiser being, with perspective, and recognition of the deep healing I’d experienced and of my newly-learned skills to sit with pain. And then, most importantly - to eventually stand back up with gratitude for (most of) it, and compassion for myself.
This past week has, at many moments, left me feeling shaky, incapable of handling my intense emotions. My puppy-faced and seemingly indestructible dog, Miles Davis, showed signs of illness. After a few trips to the vet for testing and exams, it was revealed that he has cancer, an aggressive one. My vet estimated just a couple weeks. His 17th birthday is this August, and I’d fully expected to see that day and celebrate with him at my side. I haven’t ruled out a miracle since he is the extraordinary Benjamin Button boy, but I’m working on accepting that my sweet boy will soon be gone.
On the worst days of grief and depression these past few years, the one, true, guaranteed way to get me up and outside was Miles. It’s been just the two of us, and I poured the energy I could muster into being the best dog mother I could be. I prided myself in the distances we covered each day on our walks. Seeing him thrive, frolic joyfully, and demand more from me and life in his later years, helped me more than I could ever express. The care I gave him became self-care for me.
It’s so hard to imagine my life without him. I rescued him when I was 23, and he rescued me when I was 37. He won’t be here when I turn 40 in a few months. But if the grief of losing my dad made me into a better pet owner for Miles, I can’t help but wonder what the grief of losing Miles will make me into.
Until next Sunday,
Stephanie
P.S. Currently my boy is on meds for comfort, and I’ve changed his diet for maximum calories and gentleness on his system. The last few days he’s had more energy and spryness.. I’m doing my best to make every day as beautiful for him as possible.
August 12, 2023. Photo courtesy Aimee Wilson-McDonnell.
