Goodbye, Copper

 “What's even the point of having pets if it just hurts this bad?”

“I KNOW Copper’s in heaven because dogs are WAY better than people and it only makes sense.”

Lymphoma is common in golden retrievers, but it was not common in this house. Though our dog was old, her death feels sudden, and the hole where she was seems huge. 

Our little dog is making it worse.

Skip keeps asking to go outside, pacing restlessly by the back of the van that took Copper away,

Whining indoors, sniffing the old blanket, finding no rest without her giant Copper pillow, without that large gentle heartbeat (and those snores) that he knew ever since he came to our home as a puppy.

How are the kids? 

Well, their innocence around death has been forever destroyed.

This is the first “big” loss for many of them, 

the first hole on the edge of eternity that is unavoidable even in our daily “normal” lives.

They are broken. 

Resilient.

Limping. 

Living.

We are doing the work of grieving. Yes, even schoolwork can be set aside as you need. Ask me your questions, join me on the sad couch, where anyone can just sit and be sad. Be sad as long as you need. I will stay in the sadness with you. 

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We don’t want to go to co-op; what if people pray for us? What if they talk about it?
(What if the flood comes again and I can’t hold it back and everybody’s watching?)

Children this is what we DO- this is community. No, we can’t leave our wound at home, the hole in our hearts will be stuck to us for awhile even in public. But it’s OK that people know, that they see it. These are God’s people- they will just bring it to the Lord with us and for us, and be moved to compassion for us in this.

But what if I cry?
It’s OK to cry.

(Later I laughed with Josh a little- haven’t we as adults modeled for our kids 100 times that it’s ok to cry in public?)  

I didn’t really plan to cry myself, I was in teacher mode with my game face on, happy for the distraction and the piece of normal that is our homeschool community.

But then one of my students, one with art spilling out of her constantly, brought me this card (photo).

One glimpse at the picture, the hand drawn sketch that captured the spirit and life of both of our pets..

the blessing- seen

the hole in our hearts- seen

The seeing was too much for me for a minute; I put the card face down on my desk as the tears welled, and I excused myself. 

What a gift it is to be seen.

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Seeing is hard work, and the work continues in this house today.

The children who staggered into class yesterday came home buoyed by the love of friends and the distraction of a perfect fall day. 

I heard laughter, jokes, life continuing.

The bruise remains, 

but healing has begun.

“I don’t want to forget her,” said a child whose tears had dried last night.

We will help each other remember, son. 

We will miss her at the cabin,,

we will find tufts of dog hair in weird places,

we will print pictures and tell stories,

we will grieve;

and we will watch as grief melts into gratitude.

What a privilege it is to love.