June 13, 2005
-
I was climbing up the stairs for bed last night when I flashed on one of those dinner-time stories; not the content, but the scene. Any night we were all together at the table was special, and Henry did most of the cooking. He was a cook in the Army Reserves during the Vietnam War and, because he wasn’t home much during the week, he enjoyed cooking on the weekends. Often I made something for the kids and he made something for us, and by the time all the food was on the table there were lots of courses. And there was wine. And there was music.
Everyone wanted to talk about their week and fill Henry in on what had been going on. In our diningroom we had a big, pine, bread table from Ireland and two long benches with backs that had been pews in a church. I’d painted the ceiling gold and the wallpaper was black with deep, bright-colored flowers outlined in gold. The youngest would sit at the end on a bar stool. The middle child would perch like a bird on the bench, and Bella would lay under my feet but with her head within nibbling distance of the oldest who fed her under the table. Anna would leave the bar stool and climb onto the table for a more commanding view of her audience as she launched into one of her stories. At first it was cute but it got to be tedious and when the older girls would start to talk over the top of her, I would remind them that “Anna had the floor.”
Standing at the top of the stairs, I remembered how happy we were then. It’s unnerving how different your life can be from one year to another. Bella being gone now seems so odd. I’m here with this new dog, trying to love her like I did Bella, but when I got home from the Vet’s I found my phone in the garage. She’d taken it apart and the battery was in the kitchen. Somehow it still works. Then the next morning I got up thinking we’d have a nice run down by the river now that we didn’t have to worry about Bella not being able to keep up and not wanting to upset her by leaving her at the house. So I came down to find my new sandals in shreds. I’d made the mistake of kicking them off while I was sitting in front of the computer. Today she rolled in something awful, the first time she’s ever done that. I don’t even know what she could have found out there.
I think I have been so focused on moving ahead with my new life, leaving behind all the negative parts of that old life, that I forgot the good parts. Holding Bella in my arms, feeling her slip away, it was like losing my old life all over again. Only this time I treasured it. I wiped my eyes and went around the table to get one last look at her, remembering what a good life she’d had.
Comments (9)
the love will come. old times are another country, aren’t they?
it’s good to remember the good times from the time when everything seemed alright, and to cherish them. they will be with you always in your heart… and puppies… she must be lonely without bella there to remind her to behave! she doesn’t have words to express her fear and sadness, but she’s telling you anyway!
This is a tremendous journey you are involved in…pearlbamboo has it right; old times are another country, and you’re leaving it, and that’s so unsettling. There’s so many good parts of our lives that stream past us down the river of Time – as my gramma used to say, “nothing very good and nothing very bad lasts forever.” She meant that as a truism to get us through bad times, but alas, it also works the other way. So treasure it all.
What a sweet and tender story and a fond memory. So sorry that you are facing the struggles of a new dog. Seems like the old was comfortable and I sense that the present is less so. May that comfortable feeling come to you soon as you learn your new surroundings.
this is so moving, this entry today…i can identify with it, in too many ways…
this is what makes you such a great writer
Your words are poignant and filled with emotion…it is nice to find someone close to my age and one who loves writing too. And getting used to a new pet when you’ve lost the old one after so many years is something I, too, am very familiar with. It gives us a bit of re-figuring our lives, doesn’t it? Stop by and visit my blog if you get a minute.
take care,
paulygrl
…even the pain in these memories, that these times have past, gives itself to the beauty of your writing… xo
hi ydurp,
I loved your reminiscent trip and was deeply moved by your candor. Yes, it is correct to assume how quickly things can change. And it seems moreso as we get older. Maybe we choose to savor those moments longer, and sense their slipping away more, who knows? You have captured some beautiful moments here, so much that you made me think of mine as well. And I, too, miss Bella, tho I do not know why. I think I feel your pain, that must be it. Or maybe it’s because we have a 20 year old cat that is ready to depart as well. Memories are wonderful; make the best of them, sometimes that’s all we have left.
Take care…keep writing, you do it so well! As for me, my running years have taught me that in the act of writing a recovery takes place and in the telling the writer becomes the survivor. I think both of us are testament to that, don’t you?
hugs,
paulygrl
This post is important. It is important to take the best things, memories and lessons from every interaction with a living being. That way they never really end. It’s the Tao’s way of making up for the fact that we’re linear beings.
Each day of love is a blessing. And even though I know it’s hard now for you, since you remember your love for Bella, you will also make special memories with your new dog. You’ll laugh, you’ll learn.