A small part of me still thinks that Lucas is just in the other room, that I’ll hear him hopping around or pinning Coop or crying because Newt is blocking his way to the water dish.
He will have been gone two weeks tomorrow, and I find myself still waiting for him to come home. Like he’s just at doggy daycare or the vet or something. Not gone gone.
First, thank you all for the kindnesses. We are touched. Blown away, really. I’ve read every comment, email, Facebook message, and tweet, and I just haven’t had the heart to think through replies yet. I will soon, but thank you for all the love and thoughtfulness and generosity.
We threw ourselves into the move only days after he passed. We were unconsciously waiting until he left us to complete the move, I think. We kept him with his familiar routines and with his vet and among his most loved friends. Once he was gone, after a couple days, we realized it was time. So, we packed up our entire house, hired some movers, and… well… moved! I sit here surrounded by half-unpacked boxes, but we’re slowly settling in.
In the past two weeks, I missed a number of things. I missed Cooper’s Gotcha Day (belated letter coming soon) and the flip of the Pinups for Pitbulls calendar to Mr. November’s month (our calendar story coming soon) and lost Newt’s puzzle toy (final post about her AvoDerm trial coming soon).
But mostly I missed Lucas.
His not being here, his lack of presence, is even louder and clumsier than when he was here. I feel it in the shape of our day, of our routines. My, how suddenly and drastically things changed. I’m putting together the rough shape of that story for you for another day. First those other three things, I think, while I put my thoughts in order to adjust the new shape of our Lucas-less life.
I cringe when the UPS truck drives by, just bracing myself for a barking, lunging, snarling tirade, then feel sad when it doesn’t come.
I find myself standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding onto the cat food spoon, the spoon that we use to scoop out Newt’s dinner that Lucas licked every single night because he ate the fastest and knew to hop over and get his licks before his brothers finished their kibble.
The cat food spoon reminds me he’s gone and I miss him and I hate putting that dang spoon in the dishwasher.
Thank you for all the loving kindness, the understanding, the compassion. We’re finding the new shape of our days and are forever grateful for you.
So…..not that you can ever replace…..but I am patiently waiting to see what you are going to do now that you have 2 dogs instead of 3. 3 is a lot – I know – but when your used to 3 and you have less – it seems quiet…..
We always say we won’t have 3 anymore….but I just don’t know…….don’t you want to add a little puppy or poor little shelter dog to all you current chaos!!!
Stay strong!
That little spoon story got to me more than anything else. We never know what tiny things will remind us of the gaping space they’ve left. I’ve been thinking about you a lot – you’ve been through so much this year.
You are amazing and even though he is not there, physically, I can feel that wickedly strong Lucas-Love radiating off you and your words. He won life with you.
I have no words to ease your pain. I wish I did.
What is so plain in your words is the pain his absence brings. My deepest condolences Maggie. My heart hurts for all of you. Praying peace and happy days come and provide some laughter despite the pain. Love you all.
This post was sad, but yet it made me smile. I know you will always miss him, and him being him. I remember a post or so ago when you posted the pics of him digging in the yard 🙂 When I remember that image, I smile. His last days with you were happy. You deserve the time to grieve, to remember and to smile. (((HUGS)))
My heart aches for you – Lucas was a precious soul and adjusting to sudden passing will no doubt take some time. Be gentle with yourself. No one here has any expectations of you. We just want you to know that’s you’re not alone in your grief – we’re all missing your big, yellow dog.
I’m so sorry again. 🙁 Lucas was such a wonderful smiling pup, we hope you can enjoy this holiday season in his memory.
My heart goes out to you all for I am still looking for my Callie, too, at times. And when something happens to remind me of her specialness, my heart feels pulled in a million different directions. I know there are no magic words to ease the pain; but I do know the love of our pet-loving community has helped me deal with the pain a lot better than I ever could have on my own. We will still be here when you’re ready to “talk”. Till then, my friend, much love to you, John, Cooper, Emmett, and Newt from Shadow, Ducky, and Me. (((HUGS)))
It is sometimes the smallest things (spoon) that we treasure the most. When our beagle passed it was the getting up and going to bed without letting her out for the night that I missed the most. It felt like my night was just…well it just wasn’t complete.
I know you will find your ‘new normal’ but it will take time and you need to give yourself that. We are all here for you, no matter what you need.
Hugs my friend.
You know he will always be there inside your heart, in his only special place that belong to Lucas, and then you will start finding him in different places like that spoon…….everyday things, that made the days happen and normal…..so now you have a new normal, and one day that will change into another normal.
Its hard, we have been there, and felt that change…….I always wish they all could have stayed with me, until it was my time and then they went along. But I don’t make those rules, so in the meantime, while I am waiting to see mine all again, I live in the normal just like you. Hugs coming your way, from the three little pugs in Iowa. Stella rose and momma
I hope that making your move has been a bit of a distraction from your pain…though nothing could be completely. It’s always the silly, and even the annoying, habits that we miss the most. No matter how many pets you have, each one has their own special place and their own special habits that are sorely missed.
Oh, Maggie, I have a spoon, too…except I use it to scoop out canned food for four cats in the a.m. and then use it (without rinsing) to scoop out canned food for the dogs. After the boys finish eating on opposite sides of the room, they meet me in the middle, on opposite sides of the spoon, to lick it clean. If I forget, they sit under the can and stare at me. One day, I’m going to be in your situation. With only one dog at the spoon. And I’ll remember I’m not alone.
Your writing is so lovely and poignant. I’m thankful that you’ve had a move (as sucky as THAT is in itself) as a distraction. That new shape will come in time. *sigh* Still sending prayers for peace.
P.S. I hope you know that a reply is the last thing I (and probably others) expect from you. Just go ahead and scratch that off of your long list of to-do’s! ?
Thinking of you and yours.
i feel your pain.. still keenly. my husband and I just lost our Luna 2 months ago to cancer we didn’t even know she had… she just collapsed one day, and we took her to the vet and were told she had tumors on her heart and liver. We went home without her. You have my sympathy and condolences… *hug*
I apologize for being so late to express my sadness at your loss. There are no words to ease your pain that I know to write. It is truly one of the hardest parts of life. I hope that knowing so many of your friends share in your grief will help lighten the heaviness in your heart. ? ?
Thinking of you lots. I enjoy hearing your stories about Lucas.