Lacy was Christina's dog, but I loved Lacy too. Lacy was the queen of the universe. She was gentle... although she could be demanding. Like most dogs, she loved to go on walks, ride in cars, and be with the people and dogs she knew. She was happiest when she was with Christina and Brownie and me.
Which made it so hard to see her weaken, to see her strength drain from her, to see her pleasure in life decrease. Lacy died on April 20, 2007. She was much loved.
Love is more than an emotion; love is a connection. We love people, we love animals, and we even love inanimate objects such as cars, clothes, jewelry, photographs houses, books, paintings, sculpture, other works of art, mementos, memoribilia, and so on.
My mother died in 1985, my sister Joy died in 1999, and my father died in 2000. I miss them all. It's painfully obvious that their deaths were losses to me. It hurt to lose them.
There is not much I can do to feel close to my parents and my sister. I have photographs, momentos, and memoribilia. Perhaps more than most people, I have saved things that belonged to those who have gone. Perhaps more than I should have, I have tried to keep connected to those I love.
Not only do I mourn my family members, but I mourn the dogs that I have loved and lost: Snowy, Cholmondeley, Molly, Cosmo, Zooey, and Lacy. Dogs come and go. Like my father, I don't believe in immortality, but the ideas of Heaven and of the Rainbow Bridge are very tempting... even comforting.
I should keep things in perspective. I should not work too hard to live in the past... nor should I forget the loving relationships I have had with those who are no longer living. Living is about remembering, but there is so much more to life than looking backwards.
The purpose of life? To care for those who need our care. To be kind. To oppose evil in all its selfish guises. To make the world a better place. To reach out to those who are alone, who are lonely, who yearn for the connection of love, of a phone call, an email message, a fax, a card, or just a letter.
To pet a lonely dog... to love.
My mother died in 1985, my sister Joy died in 1999, and my father died in 2000. I miss them all. It's painfully obvious that their deaths were losses to me. It hurt to lose them.
There is not much I can do to feel close to my parents and my sister. I have photographs, momentos, and memoribilia. Perhaps more than most people, I have saved things that belonged to those who have gone. Perhaps more than I should have, I have tried to keep connected to those I love.
Not only do I mourn my family members, but I mourn the dogs that I have loved and lost: Snowy, Cholmondeley, Molly, Cosmo, Zooey, and Lacy. Dogs come and go. Like my father, I don't believe in immortality, but the ideas of Heaven and of the Rainbow Bridge are very tempting... even comforting.
I should keep things in perspective. I should not work too hard to live in the past... nor should I forget the loving relationships I have had with those who are no longer living. Living is about remembering, but there is so much more to life than looking backwards.
The purpose of life? To care for those who need our care. To be kind. To oppose evil in all its selfish guises. To make the world a better place. To reach out to those who are alone, who are lonely, who yearn for the connection of love, of a phone call, an email message, a fax, a card, or just a letter.
To pet a lonely dog... to love.
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