January 23, 2024

Lancy,

Tomorrow will be five months since we said our goodbyes. These past few months have been more of a blur than anything else. The grief has been so intense at times, but I know we had to say goodbye when we did. It doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could still have you here to hold you, to have you laying by my feet at night, going out for early morning walks, and petting you until the cows came home. I would give anything to be able to hold you again.

Lili has started to take your seat in the car. It’s only been in the last couple of weeks that she has started going in the backseat and laying in your spot, behind the driver in the back seat. Does that mean she doesn’t smell you anymore? Has she accepted you aren’t coming back? Not that she would have been sad about it, but maybe in her own way she was accepting you were no longer here.

I still cry at least a few times a week from grief, from wishing you were here, from talking about you to other people. I look at your pictures and tell you how much I love you. Do you feel my love in doggy heaven? Have you forgotten about me? Or do you tell the other doggies about your life with me? Do you read my letters to the other doggies?

Could you send some prayers your sister’s way? Her liver isn’t getting any better and I’m starting to worry about her. She isn’t eating well and I’m afraid of losing her. If she does have to go to doggy heaven, please take care of her. Apologize to her for everything that happened between you two and be a good big brother to her. Show her around and introduce her to everyone. But, knowing your sister, she will probably be running doggy heaven within a few weeks and will have everyone doing her bidding.

I miss it when you would put your paw on my arms, asking me to pet you some more. I miss holding your paw. I miss you.

Woman