At the end of this week, it will be a year
Since my dearest furry friend, Oscar, left us.
This is one of my favourite pictures of Oscar:
Life is busy with two dogs, work and kids —
But sometimes, when I least expect it,
I’m overwhelmed by loss.
Other dogs have come into my life (Ruby and Simmie) —
Not to replace Oscar —
But to fill life with their own brand of friendship.
This is Simson diving — a younger version of Oscar:
Because that’s what love does —
It expands the heart and makes room for more.
I’ve got a very busy week ahead and will be away with work – so I won’t be around to visit you until the end of the week.
For more love, please go to: Our World.
And make sure you visit: Skywatch.
One glorious day last autumn, I was in a terrible mood and just needed to get out the house. As I was zooming off to the local churchyard with the dog and camera, I saw two tearful faces running behind the car.
Even though I’d been trying to escape their bickering in the first place, I stopped the car and the kids jumped in.
A remarkable peace fell over us as soon as we started looking at the graves.
Churchyards are all about love and loss —
About grief but also about those cherished years of life that went before.
The inscription on this gravestone says:
And wept over.
We left the graveyard as friends, all petty arguments forgotten.
For the dead do offer the living some comfort:
A reminder that we only have this life
And it becomes what we make it.
“Judge nothing, you will be happy. Forgive everything, you will be happier. Love everything, you will be happiest.” -Sri Chinmoy
For more stories, please visit: Our World.
It is with great sadness that I write this today. My mother-in-law passed away this morning. One of her last wishes was that we all celebrate her life instead of her passing away.
This is in her honour.
Photo by Aleks Dush
DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE AND WEEP
By Mary Elizabeth Frye – 1932
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.