colmena
señor member
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2008
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My dog, Charlie, died today.
This post isn't for sympathy. It's not required. My thoughts are brimming, and this is what it's for.
He was more than a brother for thirteen years. If he or I should need a hug, we were there for each other. He had heart failure, so we knew it was coming. For the last few months, each time I came downstairs to greet him in the morning, I would check to see his back slowly rise and fall with each breath. And as I was with him alone, once his heart had stopped, the vision of life compassionately deceived me once more, as his back seemed to rise and fall.
Mother had her tissues, father sobbed (he's a sensitive soul), and I was calm and attentive. His memories remain in heart and home, the stained tears on the windowsill, the scratches on the dining room door. And as I stared into his eyes for the last time, I suspended reality just for a moment, and believed there was still sentience in his presence. My hand on his chest provided the cruel honesty I didn't need.
And now the house is without love, without warmth and affection, and I must move on, too; willing sentience always in my presence in life.
It seems denial is only just starting to pass.
Charlie ("...Farlie")
1995-2008
Photomographs:
1
2
3
4
5
love u, miss u
paul
x.
This post isn't for sympathy. It's not required. My thoughts are brimming, and this is what it's for.
He was more than a brother for thirteen years. If he or I should need a hug, we were there for each other. He had heart failure, so we knew it was coming. For the last few months, each time I came downstairs to greet him in the morning, I would check to see his back slowly rise and fall with each breath. And as I was with him alone, once his heart had stopped, the vision of life compassionately deceived me once more, as his back seemed to rise and fall.
Mother had her tissues, father sobbed (he's a sensitive soul), and I was calm and attentive. His memories remain in heart and home, the stained tears on the windowsill, the scratches on the dining room door. And as I stared into his eyes for the last time, I suspended reality just for a moment, and believed there was still sentience in his presence. My hand on his chest provided the cruel honesty I didn't need.
And now the house is without love, without warmth and affection, and I must move on, too; willing sentience always in my presence in life.
It seems denial is only just starting to pass.
Charlie ("...Farlie")
1995-2008
Photomographs:
1
2
3
4
5
love u, miss u
paul
x.
