In a post that I wrote a week ago, I said that I would share some thoughts about dealing with the coronavirus pandemic:
- Some ideas about how to manage the Bad News Drip Feed (while still staying informed), and
- Finding personal meaning in this pandemic and the inevitable challenge and change that it brings
I still plan to do this, but it will probably be another few days before I do.
This week we said goodbye to our dog Harper, aged 17 years, 1 month. There he is, in the car, on the way to a favorite park.
I am extraordinarily blessed to have lived with this joy-being for 16 years. He was a rescue, and for almost all of the time he was with us, he was the healthiest dog I have ever known, another huge blessing.
Despite what it looks like in the photo, he was also an introvert and a jazz lover, which fit right into Harold’s and my lifestyle.
What I wanted to share about this is that I am realizing something that I really didn’t get until this week, a sort of a duh moment: I don’t think that we ever really know the depth to which we love someone or something until the grief shows us.
That, I guess, is the gift of grief.
Be eternally happy, sweet Harper, and thank you for coming to us.