Witnessing the Work of Dying--Part 1

Where We Began

So much of the work I do with my clients is to develop the skill of Reflection. This series is a look behind the curtain into my own work of Reflection as I witness what I have named: the work of dying. This writing is unpolished and evolving.

For the last nine years I have had the most faithful companion. He rescued me the same month my Nana passed away.

My Nana was my container for becoming. She protected my hopes and my dreams. She fed, clothed, and even housed me periodically. When I was little she was Santa and the Tooth Fairy. She made every single birthday from 1 to 21 a momentous celebration of life complete with a double chocolate cake, a handwritten card, and a hug that could communicate the immense pride, joy, and love she had for me. 

I have many more words to say about my grandmother, but that will be for another post. When my Nana passed I entered a grief that can only be understood by those who have experienced and lost unconditional love. When she left this earth I believed that no one would ever see or love me again. I was alone.

In my grief, I very quickly decided that I would head to the Town Lake Animal Shelter and get another dog. Not for me, but for my lab Mollie who needed a companion of her own. The shelter was at capacity and would begin euthanizing dogs soon. All the more reason to add another four legged friend to my pack. 

It was one of those days in a Texas summer where you wade through the air rather than walk. The outdoor kennels were vibrating with an electric desperation. Dogs were barking, whining, and jumping in pens, all 75-100 of them. 

I made my way through the pens and took in the sensory overload.  At the very end of my lap through all the pens, I found Jack. 

He was sitting at his gate staring up intently at me. You should know that Jack has the most beautiful amber eyes that pierce to the very core of who you are.  

He was perfectly still and silent, no small feat for a pup of 10 months old. I now believe Jack is part Monk, and he is well practiced in the act of Noble Silence. 

I opened his pen and he gingerly walked towards me as I squatted down to him. He reached my lap and with the utmost care put his front legs around me and buried his head in my lap. 

And that was that. I was his.