Nine weeks. Sixty-three days.
The bag Bela's ashes came to us in is a foot and a half from my right foot.
The container they were in is in the bag. The top of the container says, "Until we meet again at the rainbow bridge."
I have no idea what that means and don't want to know. But I keep it near me. His paw print from the crematorium is on my desk, near me.
Just like the hat Bern made me for Christmas some 5 or 6 years ago that looks like a Puli dog, down to the black mark on my hat's tongue...a Puli trait--near me.
I've resisted bringing the little 2 inch sized Puli brass depiction downstairs to be near me.
My cup with a Puli on it is on the desk where I write. But it has been for several years. Only now I look at it with longing that I didn't have 9 weeks ago.
And on a little file folder holder to my right there are still Bela ashes from where I divided them between Bern and I to scatter at the Canal where we walked him thousands of times.
Oh, Jesus, I still mourn him and miss him so....
The 63 days without him hurt so much though we had 5015 days with him (I did the math for him).
Deep breath.
I miss him so.
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About Me
- Under The Castor Oil Tree
- some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.
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