I'll Be Looking At The Moon But I'll be Seeing You

Pepsi in her glory

Dear Pepsi,

This the letter I dreaded writing. After two very difficult days of rapid deterioration, I took your cues and helped you enter a more peaceful place. In doing so I ended this part of our journey together, though I feel you every minute of every day and know you are watching out for me. You are and always will be my guardian angel. They said I would know and though I wondered and questioned myself as we rolled with your ups and downs, it was clear you were ready, and far too tired to carry on in this life. You looked up at me with a pleading in your eyes as you refused food, had a hard time walking and every breath felt like an effort. You often stared into space, as if your body remained on my behalf but your transition had already begun. I slept on the floor with you for two nights. You were unable to get comfortable; however, it was as if you saw my exhaustion and despite your pain, you fell asleep for three hours so I could get some rest. I woke Friday morning and knew you could not go on any longer, not even for my sake. I called the vet and gave them a heads up. Erica stopped by on her way to work to say farewell and Anne came to help me get you in the car. She drove so I could sit with you in the back. It felt surreal and right at the same time.

Pepsi being carried into the hospital

I tried to keep you going until Dad got here on Monday, or even Rena on Saturday. They understood and told me to do what was best for you. It took all my love and strength to help you make this transition. The staff was very kind and laid a quilt on the floor for you. They explained the process and asked my permission before putting in the IV. Everyone at the clinic has come to love you and were very sad. They put a sparkly pink bandage on your paw, a diva until the end. Anne took video and then we called Rena on FaceTime so she could be with us. Once the doctor injected the medicine you closed your eyes and went right to sleep. You seemed so peaceful. After you went to sleep they left me with you so we could have some time together. I held you, told you how much I love you and would miss you. I called Dad and we actually started laughing about how after you came into our lives I let you have the run of the house. I spent thousands of dollars a few years earlier updating the house and was strict with people about taking off shoes before they entered and cleaning up after themselves. You managed to undo most of that - chewing sheetrock, wood on the banister, the furniture and pulling rug threads. You caused me to relax my rigid and often unreasonable expectations that drove people crazy. After all it was always about you. Dr. Wolff and the vet tech came back in and as I shared Pepsi stories, often humorous ones, Dr. Wolff and I caressed you. I felt as if you heard us and we helped your spirit elevate. I cut some of your fur and put it in a baggie. I touched you one final time and forced myself to leave, walking out the door of the examination room and into life without you. 

A more peaceful place

Kissing goodbye - for now

When I got home Pearl waited for you to come through the door. The house was quiet. I walked over to your pink fleece jacket and hugged it close to my chest, inhaling your smell. I stood in the kitchen and sobbed. Your medications covered the window sill. Traces of you everywhere. Your absent presence is felt in every corner of the house. Part me expects you to prance into the room or lay beside me in your typical spot near my pillow. After being so vigilant for six weeks it was odd not to check on you every few minutes. I felt at a loss and your sisters looked at me as if to say What do we do now? Beats me I thought. My eyes hurt from crying and I was exhausted after running on fumes for several days; however, I made a plan for the day. For starters I wanted to get two frames, one for the painting Karen gave us and another for the painting I made of you and Pearl when we lived in Austin. After the frame shop I decided we needed a trip to Higgins Beach to pay tribute to you at sunset. Before we left Jeanette came over with flowers and a card. We sat at the island in the kitchen drinking tea as I recounted Pepsi stories between laughing and crying. We spoke of loss and love, how deep the connection to our pet babies is. After Jeanette left I wondered how I and my aching heart would manage without you. 

Pepsi and Pearl

Portrait of Pepsi and Mom over my desk

Your loss so soon after my mom's death feels like a one-two punch. Tending to you caused me to eliminate all but the essential. My perspective has been altered radically. The political situation has descended into madness after the election. The world feels upside down. I have strange thoughts about taking Pearl and Pandy to traverse back roads in search of awe in nature. Eat breakfast at cafes in small towns. Chat with strangers. Rent the house for a year, get a small camper and write and take photos. Think quietly with volumes of space around me. See if I can make sense of life without you to anchor me. What's the point of working so hard when the rug is pulled out from under you? I have been at it non stop since I started my doctoral program in 2009, you and Pearl by my side through school and then beginning my career as a professor in a new city. You and your sisters made weekly trips to the nursing home to visit my mom, which many of us believe added years and happiness to her life. Maybe this urge to bolt will pass, and then again maybe not. I love my work, community, house, and Maine; however, going though these past few months, particularly the last six weeks mostly on my own has caused me to question the basis of everything. Either way life without you has reshaped me and I am not certain what will evolve without you darling Peps, my bringer of joy.

Pearl looking for her sister

Your sisters under your watchful eye at sunset

We went to Higgins beach before the sun set to pay tribute to you. The tide was low, just as you like it. It was uncanny how Pearly paused and looked around, breaking her run several times. I know she was searching for you. Look up Pearly, I said, she is here, watching from above. In mind's eye I could see you fearlessly plow into the surf and turn to bark for me to throw the yellow tennis ball for you to fetch. There is no complete picture without you. I walked along the shore and called out your name at the top of my lungs with only the breaking waves to muffle my cries. I looked up to the sky ablaze with strokes of electric sunset hues and I swear Pepsi girl you were looking down at us, trying to assure me you will always be present no matter where we are. I know it was your earthly body that left and your spirit remains a force of love and protection. In that we will never be apart. I will continue to write and speak to you. I will hold you close and feel your presence swirl around me. You will continue to fill every moment with magnificence. You remain my bringer of joy. Over the past few days I have been humming lyrics from a Judy Collins song:

I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day

In everything that's bright and gay, I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new

I'll be looking at the moon but I'll be seeing you

We are far from done baby girl. You will continue to receive my letters. I will listen and watch for you. When your sisters run across the beach at low tide, you will be with us. In every sunset and sunrise. As Dad and I sleep you will lay between us. You will be the in our laughter and silence, in sadness and joy. I will take you on new adventures, whisper your name as I dive into the sea. When I asked you to never leave me I didn't realize you would honor my request, even if you were no longer physically present. As I gaze upward, it may seem I am looking at billowing puffs of clouds, bold streaks of color, or slices of the moon, but really baby girl, I'll be seeing you. 

I love you forever my darling Pepsi,

Mom