He wasn't just a dog...

I wrote this in mid-September. I never posted it because I just wasn't ready to share my grief. It's been 4-1/2 months since Max died and the hole is still massive and although it hurts a little less to talk about him, him not being here is odd and horrible and lonely. The house has returned to some semblance of normal but it will never be the same. 

December 13, 1999 - August 25, 2014

On August 25, we said our final goodbyes to our beloved Max. He died peacefully, his head in my lap, his Dad and his brother by his side. It's kind of thrown everything into a funk around here: no one wants to really do anything substantive and so many things have become a great big chore. Doing anything seems complicated and no one is ready to say good bye to his stuff - we've actually decided to put most of his stuff into storage for now but even that, no one wants to do, yet.

He was truly an amazing part of our family. He knew how to make us laugh, he knew when to snuggle near, he made us smile, be happy and just generally made life better. He wasn't just a dog, he wasn't and although he had four legs and floppy ears, he was so much more than a dog. In fact, saying he was 'just a dog' is an absolute insult to us and to his memory.

so why am I writing about it? Because I can't seem to do much else today but miss him. There are dishes to be done, supper to be prepped, a nap to be had but I just want to hold my boy and stroke his head and cry into his fur. I want him back, I want him here and nothing is replacing that feeling today. Not the second bit of lunch, the bowl of grapes or the Swiss roll (which was terrible, by the way). The work out didn't help either.

Sometimes, there isn't anything that can fill the void grief brings. I've been told time will help and I know it will, but nothing will ever fill the space he held in my heart.