Yesterday morning I got home and did the usual dog stuff. Once I’d opened the back door Stormy went about her business and got in a mite of barking. Normal morning around here, pretty much like every other morning since the late 1999 period – me and at least one Sheltie on the back steps greeting the day.
Sitting on the steps (who needs patio furniture when you’ve got a stoop?) was always a peaceful time with Edzell. He’d sit next to me or stand there at my side. Maisie did it as well, but I think of it as an Edzell thing to do. Stormy hasn’t been that into sitting there with my arm around her as the day begins. She’s not the “snuggly” type, and prefers to be patrolling the yard.
But Thursday was an exception. She came back up the steps and sat right next to me. I put my arm around her and she didn’t run. I smiled about all the great mornings I’ve had out there with my dogs and thanked God for her taking up the duty. And then the overwhelming sadness of loss slammed into me like an enraged Sumo. I missed Ed and Maisie so deeply that it physically hurt. I’d spent thousands of mornings out on that step with them greeting what would be another day of love and friendship. And my two buddies were both dead and gone. I’ve got tears in my eyes writing this now.
Laura Story has a song about what I experienced yesterday. I’ll put the video down below. The song is called Blessings. The point of the song is that sometimes your blessings come in disguise. Yesterday’s blessing was the realization that the most perfect material to absorb tears of loss and grief is the fur at the back of a dog’s neck. I burrowed my face into Stormy and gently wept for my two friends.
I still miss them. I will always miss them. But after a moment or two, when Stormy was still there and not trying to run away, I had found my blessing that came through tears. We just have to look a bit harder for those blessings.
What blessings have you missed by not looking past the tears?