I discovered a new blog: http://www.bedlamfarm.com This farm is run by the writer, Jon Katz, and his wife, Maria Wulf. Together, they live on their farm with a menagerie of sheep, donkeys, chickens, barn cats and, of course, dogs. Three dogs to be exact; Freida, Red, and Lenore.
In one of Katz's recent posts, he wrote about how he doesn't mourn the loss of his dogs, but, rather, "gives thanks for his time with them and "acknowledges the gratitude (he) feel(s) for having other dogs who are just as wonderful and challenging and spiritual in their own way."
I wish I could say I haven't mourned for Jack, but I have. Although it doesn't hurt as much now, I still feel his loss every day.
Katz goes on to say that after he loses a dog he chooses not to mark the anniversary of its death in any special way, preferring to relish in the love, the joy he gets from the dogs who are STILL living with him.
But what if the dog you lost was your only one? What if you don't have any others waiting to comfort you? To walk with you? To lick your face and your tears?
His words made me wonder why I felt compelled to plant a tree for Jack. Come July 22, 2014, that tree won't help me to remember Jack any more than if I had left that soil unturned.
So why was it so important for me to pay tribute to Jack? A tribute he would never understand. Maybe that tree provides me something tangible, something visible to prove that Jack was once here. That he mattered. That he was loved. I know it can't make me feel like he's still here, still with me. That's silly. I know the only place Jack will be forever now is in my heart.
One of the dads at Nora's soccer game recently told me that the only way he's found to get over the loss of a dog is to get another dog. And he said he's never been without a dog. Until now, either have I.
Maybe both of these men are right.
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