Saturday, December 13, 2025

 Dear Darlin'

I hope you are enjoying a sunny day Where You Are. It's been sunny here and warmer that expected. You would have loved to take a walk today and collect smells. Collecting smells was one of your favorite things to do. Probably still is.

You also would have really loved yesterday, and Mommy Megan and Daddy Devin came from Nashville to visit G Mommy and me. We were joined by Aunt Debbie and Uncle Matthew to celebrate G Mommy's birthday, which, as you know, actually falls on Christmas Eve. With the six of us all gathered around, the room was filled with laughter and joy, all of which you would have taken in. You would have been the center of attention, of course, as always. It always seemed as if you could sense love, which always made you happy.

The best part of the evening, however was when Mommy Megan and Daddy Devin left to go to their hotel for the night, because this meant that you would be spending the night with G Mommy and me. You always loved staying with your grandparents; it always seemed to put an extra spring in your step. Even in your later years, you seemed to grow younger when you stayed with us. when we went into the condo hallway to go outside for a walk, you would patiently wait for me to say, "Let's go!." and then you would run full tilt down the hallway to the up down car, as if you couldn't wait to get outside and start collecting smells. Your walks were always fun, and I loved every single one of them. I miss them now. 

After your walk, it would be bedtime (you always let us know when it was bedtime), and you'd hop up into our bed and wait for us. Then, when we climbed into bed, you would jump down and get into your bed - one turn - two turns - and then a third turn - and curl up.

Last night aa big half moon shone through the window next to my side of the bed, the side you always slept on. In the middle of the night I awoke as I often do these days, and I could clearly see where your bed would have been. I remembered how I used to hear you snoozing. What a comforting sound that was. Two of my favorite sounds ever are the sound of G Mommy snoozing and you slumbering away. 

It's hard for me to not feel emptiness at you not being here sleeping with us in our bedroom. Knowing that it will never happen again breaks my heart - crumples it, really. Yet, here I am writing about things that did happen - things that have turned into cherished memories. They are a part of the fabric of my soul, and I try to convince myself that this means that you are still here in some way. Well, you must be. I'm writing you this letter, aren't I? 

You were loved and still are. Isn't love the essence of true life? 

Your life isn't over yet. Neither is mine.

Tuesday, December 9, 2025

 Dear Darlin,

I hope you are having a good day where you are. I say "I hope" although I am fairly certain that you are having a good day Where You Are. After all, Where You Are there are plenty of people who need you to show them exactly where they should be and where they should sit. I always loved being nudged by your nose, and I always tried to be as obedient as I could be, given the situation. If everyone is where they should be and all is calm, then perhaps you have found some rays of sunshine to lie in so that your solar powered batteries could be recharged. You always loved the warmth of the sun.

I don't know why I didn't think of writing you sooner. Perhaps I won't sure I could hold myself together long enough to write an entire letter. And then there was the question of how to get it to you. How could it have taken two years before I realized that you would be able to read a letter from me if I simply put my thoughts together in words. When you were with us, you always seemed to know what I was thinking, as if you could read my thoughts as I thought them. Just because you are No Longer Here with me in a bodily form, why would things be any different now? You are just as alive today as all of my dear departed loved ones. I feel your presence just as I feel yours. 

Only, I haven't written any of my dear departed ones before. This letter to you is the first. Why is that? Perhaps you are more present than the others. I've heard other grandparents talk about their grandchildren in such ways. I've heard them say that their grandchildren are in their thoughts even more when they are absent than when they are present. I understand that. When we were together taking a walk or playing with one of your toys, I didn't think much about you not being there. But now that you are Not Here, I think about you all the time. All the time.

Yesterday was a bad day. You left us two years ago yesterday. Not much has changed, at least with me. I miss you just as much today as I did two years ago today. I still grieve privately, alone. Everybody know, probably, most of all G Mommy. I can't hide much from here. 

I can still picture your Mommy Megan and Daddy Deven along with your G Mommy and me gathered around you saying goodbye, while at the same time refusing to believe that we were saying goodbye, like we mortals have the power to change these things. Part of grief is feeling powerless to make things better, or to heal your cancer, or to make time go backward. Grief is having to accept the unacceptable, and there is nothing good about that. 

I should stop for now, because someone there Where You Are is probably getting up out of his or her chair without your permission, and you've got work to do. You're a Good Dog. I miss you, and I will write often. Feel free to show up in my dreams tonight.

Love,

G Daddy