Sometimes It Looks Like This
If it weren’t for the grief.
Or the fear. Or that insistent voice that tells me I should be doing more.
It’s almost peaceful.
The day has a soft feel to it.
The fake fire on the television fills the room with a real glow.
Snow, then sleet outside.
Hania Rani through the speakers. A burst of crying at her song “Leaving.” Then it’s over.
Delicate Christmas lights along the mantel.
The sound of cars making their way through slush.
(Here the mind wants to interrupt with things that need to be done soon: recycling, the making of dinner, the diapers I need to buy for Max, his new skin issue that needs solving…)
I shift my mind to find all the gold in the room.
Gold velvet pillows along the wall of the bed.
Gold curtains.
Gold necklace curled around itself on the desk.
A resonance that feels harmonious.
Soft blankets—some for the dogs, some for me.
Turquoise chaise lounge bed.
But we’re on the dog beds on the floor, my favorite place to be these days. Everything is senior dog friendly in this room: carpet, yoga mats—almost every inch of the wooden floor covered so he doesn’t slip or splay.
Dinner. I sit by him, one hand holds up his backside, the other hand feeds him pieces of chicken.
I spend a lot of the day hunched over.
I might have had too many brownies.
The continuous stream of dishes and cooking and laundry.
They don’t matter.
Nor do the aching joints, the aching back.
Most of the time, I am trying to feel this truth: We are okay. He is okay. I am okay. Ziggy will be okay. We’ll all be okay.
The sun has set.
Sleet turns to rain turns to slush and ice.
We are pushed by a strong wind as we make our way outside. I steady Max with both hands as he finds a place to pee. Tonight he’s able to do it on his own.
Ziggy’s little green light on her collar bounces across the yard.
There’s still a track in the snow where Ziggy and I sled yesterday. She ran along beside me with her little mouth around my arm.
I laughed the whole way down.
Pill time for Max, with sweet potatoes.
I clean his eyes, his ears. I rub diaper rash cream on him. I fasten the velcro of the diaper, adjust.
Tonight, he settles right down.
I place a blanket over him, then me.
Gold framed artwork.
Gold mini doodle finding her place alongside Max.
Gold flecks in the blanket.
Sometimes dying looks like this: quiet, almost peaceful.
Oh this is so good! The images just move me through with you, Max, and Ziggy. 🩷
Beautiful, Stephanie. Thank you for sharing these moments with your dog.