The Inspired Writer: Run Free, Sweet Girl

Our girl's last walk. We could only go around the block.

Months ago I shared with you that my sweet Nala was approaching the end of her life. And my heart is broken in this moment as I write that she has passed away: last Thursday night, peacefully, and in the arms of our family.

The thought of the week in my home.

(Here's a photo glance at the last few days.)

It was a hard goodbye to make, one that I wasn't ready for. I mean, I knew it was coming, I'd scheduled the appointment, but just because you know something is coming doesn't mean you're ready for it. It also doesn't mean that we can't be brave and still meet it head-on. And now I'm trying to grieve while also staying strong - it's a careful balance.

I wake up in the middle of the night and my face is wet from crying in my sleep. During the day I look at her bed, now empty, and I feel her loss. She spent all her days in that bed beside me while I worked. Now there is a void and it amazes me how big and present and looming a void can actually be. By definition, it's the absence of something, but I feel every ounce of that absence and it is very real.

The beauty that has come from all of this is that I have been reminded of how much I am loved. The outpouring of support from the people in my life has been incredible. I've gotten bouquets of flowers, I was given a beautiful book called Dog Heaven, I was given a bracelet with a pawprint charm on it... People have left kind and loving social media comments, people have called, people have texted messages (some of those texts even included photos of Nala that other people had that I never even knew about or completely forgot). And I think to myself, how wonderful, all this love. Love for Nala, love for me, and love for my family. And there is nothing but goodness in that.

The vet gave the kids these little vials with locks of Nala's hair.

My kids have struggled. And as much as I want to fix it for them, I know I can't. So I let them grieve and validate their feelings of heartache and loss. And I try to be strong for them, though sometimes I just hold them and we cry together. But I can't help but think to myself that it's good that we can cry together, that we can hold one another in our time of need, that we can be vulnerable with each other. Loss and grief are very real parts of life and there are things to be learned in every single loss. We learn who we are and what we're made of. We understand the depth and power of love, both internal and external. We learn what it's like to stumble and break, but also to heal and rise.

That dog touched my heart in ways I am still discovering. She showed me loyalty, and true love - and she never judged me. I have so many memories of her over the last 14 years, and I will cherish every single one of them. I loved her for all of her life and I will remember her for the rest of mine.