Kayla, my dog, was a partner for me from my twenties to my forties. We went everywhere together.
When my children were 3, 3 and 2, it was time to say goodbye to her. They all remember her fondly; and speak about her often. When we meet a dog in the park, they'll often tell the owner, "We had a dog..." [take a beat] “she died." The awkwardness that comes with cute kids talking about a dead dog is powerful. 🐶🤦🏽♀️ Those conversations keep Kayla alive in our minds. The more we speak of her, the more she is here with us. 💗
When she passed, I cremated her remains. My kids recently asked about it, and i told them that I planned to take the ashes to all her favorite places -- Brooklyn, Shea Stadium (yes, Shea), North Carolina, and more. I said that we spread her ashes to remember her, and they seemed to understand. They asked if they could each have a little bag of her ashes to carry in their back packs.📓✂️🐕 It seemed to me that they understood.
When the doctor put Kayla to sleep, she shaved a spot on her belly and suggested I keep the fur. I see it from time to time in a drawer and it makes me happy.
Yesterday, my son found the fur and spread it all over the house. I saw him with a near empty bag, and he said that "he was putting fur all over the house so that we could remember Kayla". He took great pride in placing each little puff. ++++++ Can you take a moment to remember someone who has passed that is important to you? Say their name, write their name. Stretch back to think of someone who has passed long ago. Say their name, write their name. Help them live on in your memory.