BY Lisa Lindblad
November 19, 2017
On July 6, my beloved Oliver died. We had nearly 14 years together, years that coincided with my empty nest, years in which we were, literally, the “other” for each other. We faced the world together, he my better half, the one that always smiled and played, trusted and loved. Regardless.
I have had dogs all my life and, even though we think we can never love the next dog as much, we often do. They are all so different and carry their characters boldly into the new relationship. We, of course, are different too – perhaps creakier and wiser, mayabe less playful but more tolerant, hopefully more appreciative of the little time we are given with these gorgeous creatures.
Grief is at once universal and specific and each of us claws our way through it in the only way we know how. I could not even think of Oliver after I lost him without the tears beginning. The sun was momentarily eclipsed and the emptiness was cavernous. And so, with the help of a kind friend who knows that sad landscape, I began searching for love that, for me, is the only antidote to grief. And here she is.
Miss Mabel is now 14 weeks and a treasure. She grows fast and fine and is tender and brave. She doesn’t know the big footprints she has to fill, but she has already, in her few short weeks on earth, salved my heart and made life sparkle again.