From the Top of the World to the Bottom of the Heap

I've not posted again after my story about Crockett being the catalyst of a friendship in order for that post not to disappear under other posts. If you haven't read that post, please go 'one post down' and come back if you desire. I think I wrote a fairly convincing once-upon-a-time.



Today, two weeks ago, I was on top of the world. I thought I had all my work done, I had gone to visit with my cousin (distantly related through Daniel Boone's parents), and thought that I had my life planned after I retired in 2008. There's a previous post way down in this blog about how I decided where the "diminishing returns" applied to my retirement. And then, between a quarter past to half past midnight, the song of my life was run over by a hit and run. My life turned topsy turvy. I was standing on the top of the world and suddenly I fell to the bottom of the heap.



Two weeks ago I was very content with life. Two weeks ago and a few minutes past midnight, I was devastated with life. Today, driving 'down the mountain' to a meeting in a town on the South side of the mountains, the tears came again. The emptiness of the loss of Crockett caused the tears to flow and my heart to hurt. The tears stopped, but my heart still aches. It rained and I was afraid the 'evidence' on the street in front of my house would disappear. Without the evidence, did Crockett really exist? Was Crockett all a dream? Am I dreaming now? Will I wake up from this coma and find Crockett laying his head in my hand for me to scratch his cheek?

I want that answer to be 'yes.' I know it's not going to be yes, though. Crockett's gone and I'm left here. I loved that dog more than just about anything I've ever loved.

I've still got my Granddog. And my life is being rearranged from the bottom of the heap. I won't continue to work past age 62 for very long. Crockett taught me that life is short. Not only should dessert be eaten first, retirement at the earliest date is the best choice. You never know how long you have or anyone you love has to live on this earth. So I'll be moving down to South Alabama in a year and a month or so. I'll make a pilgrimage to see Crockett's gravesite at least once a year, maybe more than once. And September 3 of every year will be a day of mourning for me. That's the day I lost the song of my life -- a very special Cocker Spaniel who stayed so briefly and meant so much. Even if all the 'evidence' is removed from the street in front of my house, Crockett can never be removed from my heart.

Crockett, I lift my wine glass to you and say "I will always love you."