Rear view mirror

Annapolis is about a half hour south of where Alexa and I live in Maryland.  Aside from being the state capital, it's a nice place to go for a quick "get out of town" visit.  There are different places we go on a regular basis: Quiet Waters Dog Park, Sandy Point State park where the beach I have written about is, Whole Foods, a couple of restaurants, Old Town.

The only reason I mention all this is because we went to Annapolis yesterday afternoon.  Actually, we went down twice.  Once to run a couple of errands, the second time was to take the dogs to Quiet Waters.

On the way back from our first Annapolis visit of the day, Alexa mentioned how she had been looking at baby pictures of Jersey the night before and how much she missed her. This was enough to get me remembering all the trips back and forth to the beach in Annapolis we made when Jersey was with us.  Specifically, it got me to thinking about Jersey's eyes.  I could look into the rearview mirror and would be able to see her brown, brown eyes either gleaming in anticipation of how much free running she could do or the look of contentment that could be found there as we drove home. A look of satisfaction which would come with being exhausted from exploring every inch of the shoreline, running unbound through the forest and discovering critters she could chase.  Her eyes would hold a certain look while she seemed to think her journey down the jetty as she poked her head into the nooks made by the uneven boulders grouped together, stretching out into the bay as she tried to find a crab to play with or some cast off fish bait to eat.

I thought of all this while Alexa was relating how much she wanted to throw her arms around Jersey's big, old, hairy neck. I thought of this and remembered our loss and that Jersey's eyes were no longer looking back at me through the rear view mirror.

I began to weep as I drove.

I think of Jersey every day.  She is never far from my thoughts.  I have come to a place when I recall a certain adventure we had or how she would sit at the top of the back stairs surveying her world.  I will think about her when Skylar sits in the same spot, in the same way. I've come to a place that through time, these memories don't have the sting they used to. The memory doesn't hurt the way it did.  I can think back and know how fortunate and blessed I was to have her in my life.

However, there are times when out of the blue, like yesterday, I look for her and she's not looking back. It's those unexpected times when I am blindsided by the feeling of her absence. It's those instances when I continue to mourn her loss and I am struck by saddness and I begin to weep.

Our lives are moving on and I am adjusting to life without her.  It doesn't mean the grief isn't there though. it is. What it does mean is that there is a sense of balance that comes with time.  There's a feeling that there is a place for those feelings, that it somehow all fits together. It also means that I will feel sad and that I will be moved to tears. Equalibrium hasn't been reached yet but at least it seems life is settling down.

My life has been moving on. I'm coming to terms with the fact that Jersey's big brown eyes aren't looking back at me in the rearview mirror.