My big dogs (aka the Thunder Puppies ), grew up in a little loft on a greenbelt in Austin, where I was trying to finish my dissertation. We were alone there most of the time; my H was here (500 miles distant), taking care of his elderly parents in their last illness. Times were hard financially. I had trouble with my health, and I missed C very badly. But the kids and I had each other, and we were harried, but happy.
The last time I was in the loft was when I drove Mackie to Austin to a specialist, big sister B went with us, and though I knew it was our last journey together, it was much like old times.
Today I keep picturing him in the loft all alone, pressing his nose against the glass waiting for Birga and me to come home. No heat, no food, no water, just that empty space with the dust motes flying in the light from the upstairs window, and Mackie there all alone, arranging and rearranging the dust covers on his couch. Sometimes I think I hear him crying for me.
"Oh Bubber, I can't come there right now, I have to take care of your Grandma. Don't wait on us, Poppy is calling you. I will find you; nothing will bar my way.
I'll find you."
See I'm a mess, I have to pull my socks up and be emotionally available to C and my girls and my Mom, but I'm havin' a bad day today.
Thanks for letting me rant.
Macks' Crazy Mom,
Dayna