I’m back from a run, and just in time too. We saw little sun today, and by 4:30 darkness was already settling in. Of course, it’s that time of year when — amid all the holiday messages and decorations — we’re also conscious of longer nights, less natural light to enjoy.
The top of our baby grand piano (always a lovely surface, positioned as it is right near the windows) is populated with many cards right now, and they’re an unusual mix. Because we lost our beloved Rocky before Thanksgiving, kind people who care about us and know how hard this experience is have sent us sympathy cards; those are still coming, actually. And of course now is also the normal time for Christmas cards, many with family photos, to arrive. Our veterinary practice sent us two cards, separated in time by just a few weeks. One, over on the left in this photo, is “In Loving Memory”; the other, on the right, has a jolly Santa holding a teddy bear. At first I thought I’d sort the cards and put them in different places, but then I realized that wasn’t necessary. Life is always, in fact, about darkness and light; loss and gain; sadness and happiness; saying goodbye and saying hello. It’s a jumbled business. You can reverse those terms if you like; the truth still stands.
We’re in the season of Advent now, and that, as I’ve come to understand through being married to a clergyman, is about waiting.
Here’s sweet Rocky, sometime in the past year, poised at the window, understanding that I was getting ready to leave the house. This was disappointing (he always loved going for rides), so he’d watch the car go out the driveway and then most likely lie down for as long as he needed to wait for my return. He was one terrific dog, that’s for sure.
The thing is, now he’s the one who’s left us…really left us, too.
My wonderful neighbor Rebecca (mentioned in a previous blog) and her pre-schooler kindly left off the picture book Dog Heaven by Cynthia Rylant — she’s also the author of the wonderful Henry and Mudge series — several days after we bid goodbye to our boy. Maybe you recall reading it, since it was published back in 1995. I’d love to share a page from that beautifully illustrated volume, but I’ll provide a link here: https://www.amazon.com/Dog-Heaven-Cynthia-Rylant/dp/0590417010.
It took me a few days to read it through, tender as I was feeling. But when I did, taking in all those scenes of dogs doing all of their favorite things, watched over by a beneficent God, I was especially moved by the last part. That’s when Rylant shows how our dogs will be there to greet us when we arrive in Heaven. Oh my, what a thought.
Last week, as more and more front yards displayed multi-colored Santas and reindeer, a plain box arrived here. We saw no return address. What was inside, though, showed the thoughtfulness of the sender.
The rock is genuine — Rob says it’s “igneous” — and the name is perfect. We’ll keep it here in the mudroom for a while and then move it down to join the other rocks that ring his burial place, beyond the pond.
Meanwhile, here comes Christmas, just a week away. Two of our three kids will be here, and that’s reason enough for rejoicing. I’ll sit down at the piano, where all the cards are, and play through some carols in the coming week. Getting out the Fireside Book of Folk Songs, the same one my Canadian Granny used to play from, sitting ramrod straight on the bench, will bring me some comfort and maybe even joy.
I hope that the Hannukah week just over filled the hearts of those of you who celebrated, and wishing others a wonderful light-filled Christmas to come. I know that we all yearn for Peace on Earth as we are all soon to turn the calendar to another New Year.
Thank you, as ever, for supporting this blog, dear readers! Please feel free to leave any thoughts about the future and your particular vision in that direction.
Susan Blucke
Lovely!
Michele
I really enjoy being able to learn about all of the goings-on in your family through your newsletter and your cards.
The town of Marblehead held a splendid and joyous celebration tonight that brought Winter Solstice, Kwanzaa, Christmas and Hanukkah practices together in one place.
Hoping your family will share the many happy Rocky stories as you all rings in the new year.
Xo
Pastorswife
Thanks for this, Michele. Glad you could enjoy that nearby holiday celebration! And yes, about Rocky: actually working on making little books about him for my kids; he was so much a part of our family. Wishing you a wonderful dawning of 2024!
Pastorswife
Thanks, Susan. Missing our daily walks on your lovely road but cherishing the memories of them!
Joseph Rose
So perfectly written friend. This advent has been a combination of grief and overwhelming joy. I hold both emotions and all the ones in between close in my heart. As we continue to pray for your household know that we wish you all a joyous Christmas season.
Pastorswife
Thanks so much, Joe. Yes, I know that many people fully understand from experience how these emotions can happen concurrently. Sending you best wishes for the dawn of 2024!
Mary Decher
Nice blog and also a difficult time. Thank you!
I will include a mention of my go-to book about death, animal or human, “Annie and the Old One” by Miska Miles. Someone gave it to us once when our kids needed it but for me it is a reminder for adults as well.
Pastorswife
Thank YOU for writing, Mary. And I appreciate that book suggestion and will certainly look for it. Wishing you West Coasters, and all your animals, a wonderful start to 2024!
Suzanne Walsh
Lovely message.
Have a Merry Christmas with your family.
Suzanne
Pastorswife
Thanks so much, Suzanne! Wishing just the same to you and your wonderful family.
Margaret Bullitt-Jonas
I’m so sorry to hear that Rocky is gone. That is such a big loss to process. I hope that your family gathering and Christmas celebration temper the grief and bring comfort to all of you. Thanks for your reflection on joy and sorrow, which do seem to be inextricably connected.
Pastorswife
Thanks for this, Margaret. Yes, this of course wasn’t an unanticipated loss but it’s hard just the same. Anywhere I go at home, I feel his absence because he was by my side just about all the time. “Inextricably connected” — that describes so much of what we experience, and also the way we are to everything natural in the world, too — as your work demonstrates.