My Little Symphony

Today is a month to the day that I let Truman go and the grief still comes in waves. No last calls for the night, no nose pressed to the front door glass when I get home, no incessant nudges and impatient stares at dinner o’clock. No Truman.

Winston, my other dog, Truman’s rescue brother, came to stay with me for a few days just three weeks ago. He was so energetic, so alive, such a joy to have with me for a time. We walked all over the yard, did silly dances, baroooooed at each other at dinner time, we made plans to have doggy day-care days in the months ahead.

But that’s not to be. Dogs have their own time. And the last two weeks, it became overwhelmingly clear that Winston’s time with us was coming to an end. His mom had to make the decision to let him go.

And each day the decline was just a little worse. Winston has always been tied to Truman, and today became that day.

I’m not ready for him to go. But when it came to Dubbie I’ve never been quite ready

Truman was my heart dog, my constant companion, my best friend.

Winston was my little.

All song,

All sweetness,

All kindness,

All wonder,

And all joy.

And man, could that boy ever fly:

I managed to get a picture of him the very first time he was at the beach, and saw the tide coming toward him. It was the only time I saw him fly backwards:

Life changes meant that I didn’t get to see him as often as I would have.

But that made me cherish every visit:

Every smile:

Every cuddle.

All the more.

I was so looking forward to more of those days.

Music has always served as therapy for me, and in processing a life without Truman, there have been songs that would ride those waves of grief, reminding me of him and my time with him.

One of those songs is Drew Holcomb’s Live Forever:

Laughter is the only thing that’ll keep you sane
This world is dyin’ more and more every day
Don’t let evil get you down
In this madness, spinning ‘round and ‘round

I want you to live forever
Underneath the sky so blue

I said goodbye to Winston for the very last time yesterday, at his Mom’s - lying on a blanket outside under impossibly blue skies.

When I left, I played the live version of that song, riding the rural roads, belting the chorus with as much energy as I could, hoping the Universe would take note:

Sing me a song, sing me a melody
You can sing out loud, ‘cause you’re a symphony.

I want you to live forever
Underneath the sky so blue

For dinner, Winston would sing out loud to let me know it was time.

Oh, my little symphony, I hope in your journey ahead you find carrots: