Today, I took the letter to the editor clipped from the paper to Crockett's gravesite. I didn't expect to start crying, but I did. I miss him forever. After talking, praying, and Casey laying next to the grave, mourning in her own doggie way, we left. As the tears dried, I no longer felt alone. By making my grief public, I intuitively know that I no longer mourn and grieve with the few who knew Crockett. The community now grieves and mourns with us.
I purchased a small cross with a silk floral spray and will prepare the shoulder of the road where Crockett was first hit and place the cross there this weekend. The people who read the newspaper and the letter to the editor will now recognize where the dog that didn't have to die was run over.
When I was driving home after work, the car in front of me drove 45 mph the entire stretch from town to past my driveway. I wonder if that driver had read the letter. After this weekend, they'll all know where Crockett was hit and taken from us.
Sharing pain is about sharing life. Life goes on. "Time passes, you come to terms."
This is how I imagine Crockie looked as a puppy: his smile, the hair swept back on his cheeks, his hind legs sliding out from under him. I miss him forever.
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