"ASH"
Born: Sept. 30, 2021 - Died: May 1, 2024
A Letter to "Ash"
You came into our lives, not with grandness, but with quiet grace, tail wagging, eyes full of light, heart ready to love. You never asked for much, just a kind word, a warm hand, a moment to sit beside us, when the world grew too heavy. In the stillness of the house, when the kids had grown, and the noise of home had long since faded, you were there, filling the silence with your presence. With the gentle rhythm of breathing at our feet, you were there with purpose, that is, to soothe our lonely hearts. And then one day ... you were gone. The house was never the same again, not in the way it was before, but in the way that aches. We still see you, in the corner of our eyes, in the spot by the door, in the spaces, where love once sat curled in fur. You were never just a dog, you were a family, a healer, a keeper of our softest moments. Ash, you are missed, deeply, lovingly, and always.Since September 2022, I’d been retired, perhaps a little too early, not even 60 yet. After spending over two decades doing the same kind of work, I found myself growing weary, bored at times, even burnt out.
Being at home alone, while my wife and kids are off at work or school, can sometimes make me feel anxious. Still, I’m never truly bored, thanks to the constant presence of my furry companions, so loyal, so loving, so precious.
Their companionship has meant the world to me. So much so that when one of them passed away, the loss was deeply felt, not just by me, but by the whole family. She was truly a darling.
When the house felt a little too quiet, when my kids have become grownups, these furry friends fill their space, just like little kids. They help mend the quiet moments and ease my loneliness.
And so, I wrote this eulogy in memory of the one I miss dearly, we miss dearly.