My Full, Broken Heart

Four years ago, my soulmate dog died. Jake was 16. The family spent his last day together. Then at 2:30pm, I carried my beloved to the car, drove him up the road to the vet's office, and stroked him as life left his body. My heart was broken.

My oldest daughter, Jess, grew up with Jake. As I took him from her lap to carry him to his death, she sobbed that she never wanted another dog. That she couldn't bear this heartbreak again.

Life goes on. As it does.

This week, Jess and I moved her stuff from her dorm room into her first apartment. Next week, she is off to Europe for her first big trip without me. My first born is flying, literally and figuratively. For the rest of my life, I will be her safety net, her support, her foundation. I hope she always wants me but rarely needs me. My heart is full of love and admiration. And it is broken.

I remember the day that I picked Jake up from the Calgary airport to bring him home. He was four months old and full of the love that he would continue to exude every day for the next 16 years. I remember the day that I found out I was pregnant with Jess, and the day she was born, and her first word, Jake. My heart was full to bursting in those moments. In those moments, the seeds of my heartbreak were sown. 

The price of joy is pain. Because everything comes to an end one way or another. So bring on the fucking pain. Because I want as much joy as I can cram into my life. Bring on new loves. Bring on puppies and baby bunnies.