Dear Danny

 My dear, sweet, darling, precious, irreplaceable Daniel.
I have to write this to you today - now, in fact, over lunch, while I have the energy and soul of it still powerful in my mind.

You may know I have been crying a lot this past few days, really struggling with the vanishing of our beautiful days together, and the loss of you in the way I did. You know, too, I have brought home a little boy, given him the name I had planned for you, and that he comforts me and helps me carry on, immensely. You know because I talk to you all the time, and before I got this puppy I made sure I could clear it with you. When I sat outside by your rosebush, crying my heart out, and told you that if I could have one wish, anything in this world - my back healed, my youth back, a million bucks, anything - I'd have you again for 14 more years -  I felt something shift. That we both knew, the one thing I crave and yearn for above all else, is the single thing I cannot have. That wanting my health back and more years of life and  money to ease the way, all pales in comparison to how desperately, how unbearably, I want you with me, once again.

And so, I had to chose life/love, or staying in endless pain. There was a clarity after that, that gave me permission to have Gabriel, and it has held me in the times when it all feels so surreal, that a small warm body is curled up beside me in the night, and it is in fact, not yours...when I hustle myself out the door pre-coffee to watch over someone pee, and it is not you, when I pull out parchment paper to bake cookies that are, in fact, not for your consumption. The fact that if I could change anything, have anything, it would be to have you, seems to make it ok for us both that I can move ahead - keeping your love and our memories always, but living life again. Building a new story. Taking all that you gave me and that we did together, into the next chapter. because honestly, I love you so so much, when you died I felt, for quite some time, that I needed to go too.

Love like that is the hardest thing in the world, at the same time it is the greatest of blessings.

I have had Gabriel just three weeks, as of Wednesday - and he's been a delight, a distraction, a treasure. I have a long way to go before my memories of you are not saturated with pain, but you know - that's the goal. And so today, without planning, I took Gabriel to one of the old walks - the only one, it seems, still open to me; down Moncrieff towards Lac Mahon. We had driven to the village for a few supplies, and I'd planned to stop at the park for a bit of socialization ( a new experience) but it was too hot! remembering how cool Moncrieff and all the walks there are in the summer, I drove there instead, and took this wee, not quite 3 month old baby on his leash, a little way down what was for me a sacred trail, a holy place, a place you and I shared for 11 of your 14 1/2 years; in so much happiness, and freedom, and  magic. It was a strange experience - not as sad as I had feared, and important to do - one thing I can plainly see is that "you can't go back again" is so very true. Because the landscape was the same but the energy, the magic, the unique and ineffable ...thing, that we were together, is gone. The ancient yellow birch still stands, the fairy cedars, the little bridge that passes over Indian Creek - the spikenard, maidenhair and blue cohosh - every marker and step of the way was, exactly as it was for us, all our days together there (there are piles of fallen logs and branches barring walkers from our favorite trail, but that was happening before we had to move, if you remember.) It was, strange to say this - another pretty Gatineau Hills walk, tree covered and sunlight dappled, and Gabriel was more interested in the smells there than I've seen him, and an elderly couple stopped  to chat and comment on him - it was pleasant, but without you - without the particular time and thing that we were, that's all it was.

It both breaks my heart and, somehow, frees me a bit, to say that.

The walk down Moncrieff, the trail over to what we called the Pumpkin Patch (no pumpkins there) the road around Lac Mahon - all of that resides in memory  - and the sheer, staggering magic of it, belongs to us and only us.

I miss you, and those magical, holy days, more than any words I can ever find will express.

 

 Dan and me at the height of our happiness,  May 2011, which would last 5 more years in its fullness and beauty.

And I just wanted to tell you - I went to a holy place of ours, and nothing had changed, but everything was different. And - as I left, as we approached the  little bridge and crossed the creek, I heard a chorus of Otherworldly voices in the water - not able to make out their words but without a shadow of a doubt, I heard them - whispering, speaking to me, and I knew - I KNEW, that because I had walked there so many years and always left presents for the Spirits, talked to them, learned every plant and rock and bird - bore witness to the magic - they spoke to me because they remember.. They acknowledged me, and without you there would have been no me walking those trails - hearing those whispers was one of the greatest magics I have ever known. And I l felt you with me.

I love you so much, Monk. Over and over - I love you so, so much. I walk forward with you so deep in my heart you are every breath I take, always.

2007

 It occurred to me earlier today, that while I have been going through my pictures month by month - Dan's Aprils, Mays, Junes etc - it's very powerful for me to also go back and revisit his life year by year. Part of the  normal process of bereavement involves  some disorientation about the passing of time - in my case, this is exacerbated by the PTSD issue - which started *probably* with my brother's suicide in 2004 and then definitely a severe episode after my first RR Luke's sudden and untimely death, just 2 weeks after his 8th birthday. Danny was a balm to my soul in every way - I adopted him just  weeks after Luke died - and the way I lost him was so traumatic I still wake up at night in crisis - although finally, less so.

I am trying to remember, in greater detail, the first year I had him - 2007. And as may be the case with memory - there are specific days, incidents, that are as clear and vivid as if they happened today - and much of it is just a blur. I was not on Facebook - I look to old postings on forums, and my collection of images, to capture long buried memories and bring that year to life.

There is still so much lost, but when I am still, in the early morning or at twilight, when  the day's work is done, I reach back to those early days - so long ago, and just yesterday too - and remember

I actually got Danny in October, 2006. The 20th, the be exact, was our "Gotcha Day. I've told the story many times, of how I came to have him - Luke had died suddenly, I mean zero warning - after his dinner and evening walk, he just collapsed, and since he was 130 pounds and I was alone in my country home I couldn't get him into the truck....can't go over the details here, he died in the parking lot of the emergency clinic in Ottawa, two hours after collapse. I was in a state of constant pain and grief, when I got news of a litter in Walkerton, about 9 hours from me, an unexpected litter and needing homes. It was only 7 weeks since I lost Luke, and the whole long drive to the puppies I was muttering to myself how insane it was, no one would ever be Luke, why was I even bothering, etc etc.

And then, you know, I saw him.

The breeder had let her 3 males into the room, which was already filled with cages containing recovering dogs (she was a vet tech) my own dog Lila was running around, it was very chaotic.And in the midst of this, Dan ran right straight to me and sat on my foot; gazing up at me with an expression like this (below). My friend turned to the breeder and said " I don't  think we have to look at any other puppies".
Yes, it was love at first sight.....

I remember some things so vividly, like waking up the second night he was home, with his little nose in my ear, snoring away. The first night he had spent in the laundry hamper! I remember the Gatineau Park walk where we met a wolf - I remember  walking a specific trail that was eventually closed off to us by the landowner - and Dan's incredibly glee at having found a portion of a porcupine skeleton, complete with a few quills! I was worried he'd puncture his little mouth, and took it away, flung it way off into the snow (this would have been his first winter, he was  4 -7 months). Next walk that same way, a few days later, and he made a beeline to where I had flung the skeleton. Lessons learned! My puppy is super smart, and anything I don't want him to have goes in a bag to throw out once home.

I don't remember our first Christmas at all, and  seem to have lost pics from around that time, which pains me enormously.

I do remember, from 2007...

- the group I organized to meet in Rupert for walks. It didn't last long but it was fun while it did. 

- meeting with Dan's litter brother Brody, and Alex's Mom and sister, for a walk out behind the community centre

- taking Dan and Lila out behind the Wakefield school for a snowy hike

- technically 2006, but an unforgettable visit with Santa in Ottawa

- Danny playing with Wilbur! We had playdates they both loved - then they moved away. :(

These two were so, so funny together....

 

Stalking...something....

 

Not quite one!

 

Oh such memories as I have of that chair and corner - birdwatching, herb-learning, such deep peace

 

Sitting pretty!

 

Out back with Lila - I can tell by the collar he was just turned one

 

I adore this picture so much

 

All tuckered out (for about 5 minutes?)

 

I'm sorry Mom...

 

....you're not mad are you? <3

                           

and, he finds his place at the table.  He sat in those chairs for years, eventually choosing one, which is battered and worn now but will always sit in my kitchen, with all my love and memories surrounding it.

 

Of course there are other memories - Lila had her big health crash on Hallowe'en night, the beginning of the end, and there was such a flurry of vet trips, tests - her surgery! that took a lot of my mind and energy in the fall. I was still mourning Luke so deeply.   But through the year I had this bright eyed, crazy, happy spirit beside me every step of the way and he brought so much joy - 2007, and always. 

Part Two in a few days. This took a long time and I am a bit worn out right now. Just continuing to honour and remember the incredible life that has left this earth, and work to heal the hole he left, and transform the pain to tender remembrance, always. Part of that work is writing and keeping the memories close. I am, and always will be, Daniel's Mom.