Streams of Tears

I'm crying and my heart is in pain. Part of it is because of losing our beloved Igloo and the love of his life, Sadie, under such tragic and unexpected circumstances. But it's more than that. Once more it's the experience of a shattered dream. We have been through so much the last few years, especially. It has been very, very hard. We've experienced death, job loss, relocation, separation (due to the job - not by choice), surgeries, medical emergencies, waiting on pins and needles for word that would speak life or death, pain, loneliness, heartbreak, the whole gamut of stressful emotions. And the one who helped us keep our focus on life was Igloo.Never in our wildest dreams did we imagine a little white ball of fur would burrow so deep into our hearts and our lives. But he did - big time. He made us laugh all the time. He brought us such joy and was a constant form of happiness in our sometimes bleak world. That's why it is so hard now. Igloo would be the one to help me through this. Not that Oliver isn't, but he has to work and that leaves long periods of aloneness here at home. Everywhere I turn, I expect to see my Pigs. He was my confidante, my playmate, the one who watched over me like a mother hen, the one who gave me unconditional love and could nudge me out of the deepest pit of despair. But his nose is not here to do that and it hurts.We had dreams and felt like finally things were turning around for us. We have been blessed to get a beautiful home in a gorgeous setting, surrounded by people who are awesome that we have come to love very quickly. We wanted to spend the rest of our lives drinking homemade lemonade on our porch, with Igloo playing in the yard - chasing after all the things that catch puppies attentions. It is a safe place. We are on a dirt road, off a barely paved road, off a not too traveled road. Never in our wildest imaginations did we expect this to happen. None of us did or we would have done things differently. Oliver and I still have lifelong dreams that we want to see fulfilled. Oliver desperately wants a truck and it's almost a necessity down here. We've even gone looking, making sure there would be room for Igloo. We've looked at boats down at the marina and dreamt of one day having one, with Igloo of course at the front with the wind blowing through his fur and his tail wagging to beat the band. We wanted to see him play more with our grandson - to watch them both so full of hope and life. We both know we'll one day be fine. We've walked this route before - too many times. It's just one more shattered dream. Funny thing is that there is a book we've both read before called "Shattered Dreams" by Larry Crabb. Just a few days ago, before Igloo died, I dug it out to reread it. It's sitting here on the table in my office. The first one to read it was Oliver and in the middle of the book, he got a call that his best friend from childhood had passed away. He wanted to throw the book to the farthest county dump that he could find. The book dredges up feelings so that you can deal with them so he was already in a vulnerable position when the call came. Then it was my turn to read the book. It was an assignment for classes we were taking at the time. It was while reading the book that my grandson was born. That in itself was great news, although I was hoping to be there like we had planned. It turns out Eli just didn't want to wait. But then the call came. The phone, the object that brought me such joy hours before, became the thing I wanted to throw as far as I could. "Mom, there's something wrong with the baby." So began a journey of lifeflights and surgery at a few days old and PICU. I couldn't go because I was so sick at the time, so we sent Oliver down to be there for the kids. The day after Eli was born, I dropped Oliver off at the airport and went to my doctor's appointment. They didn't let me go home and admitted me to the hospital. In the meantime, Kim (our daughter-in-law) was still in the hospital because of complications in Crestview, Eli was lifeflighted to Gainesville, Florida to the specialists that deal with Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernias, Dan was torn between staying with his wife or driving the five hours away to be with his son. We were scared but the good news is that now Eli is doing great. Despite a rough start. At the time though, the emotions and feelings and what ifs were very hard to bear. But for whatever reason, God impressed upon my heart to dig that book out again this week. It's been four and half years since either of us has touched it, except to pack it for the move. So here it sits, staring me in the face as a reminder of the fragility of life and how we should never take any moment in time for granted. I can't bring myself to pick it up and read it again - yet. Partly because I'd want to fling it and you know my luck with windows and partly because I wouldn't be able to see the print through the stream of tears. Our lives have been peppered with shattered dreams. Sometimes we wonder how people can even make plans. It always amazes us when we overhear people making plans for vacations and stuff a year or more in advance. We have never had that luxury. Every time we have made plans, the winds of change have roared in to change them all around. That's not saying we haven't had happy times, we have. We have had a lot of heartache through the years, but we have also had a lot of laughter and fun. It may not have been the script we would have written but we have always made the best of it. So for me, it's not just losing a dog. It's about yet one more shattered dream. Igloo was my very heartbeat. When we got him, it was so that he could be my ears as I was losing my hearing, a job he has done quite well. It was so that he could be my companion as Oliver worked long hours or was called out of town for months at a time. It was so that I had a reason to get out of bed in the morning and a motivation to exercise - after all he had to play. It was so that I could take the love I have in my heart and direct towards a living being and have someone to spoil. He was all of that and so much more. And now he's gone. It's quiet here, almost unbearably. And in that stillness, it's like I'm reliving every death, every pain, every abandonment, every hurt, every offense, every sense of loss, every dream that's been smashed, all the suffering, once more. I'm tired, I've had enough. I have seen way too much death in my life and way too many things go wrong. That's why I'm hurting. Shattered dreams. We all have them. I know that somewhere there will be a blessing in all this but right now I just can't see it. All I feel is the pain. The sense of "no more". No more walks in the woods, no more running my hands through that soft, beautiful fur, no more looking into his eyes with nothing but love reflecting back, no more telling him to stop barking at the fly on the window, or to stop chewing his butt (don't ask), no more licks on the face or sniffing of the ears, no more watching him wait patiently for whatever it is that dad was making him, no more watching him lay there as we eat dinner anxiously hoping we'd drop some scrap for him to clean up, no more playing the chase game that he and I played all the time, no more watching him head down the dirt road with dad to go check out the back forty, no more dreams and visions of things to do with him in the future. No more. At least there's still Oliver and I. My health is not good. I'm battling this lung disease with all that I can but we're just not seeing progress and that leaves the prognosis very questionable. So that's one more shattered dream for me. I know that when the time comes, it will be hard on Oliver. In all my dreams, I expected Igloo to help him through, just like he has helped me every time I'm in pain. Igloo is good at it. And he won't be here. After Oliver's scare, we still worry about his health. He works too hard and he works too much. He's not a young man anymore and certainly not the Energizer bunny. He did not look good after coming in from digging Igloo and Sadie's grave with Jason. And it wasn't just grief. So we worry about each other. Igloo was the one that kept us focused on life. He was so young with so much more to give. It hurt us when we had to put our old dog, Bart, down. But we knew we were making the right decision for him. He was in pain and there was no more joy left in life for him. But with Igloo we had no say.Just guilt. The what ifs weighing heavy on our hearts. What if I hadn't run over his tie out last week and shredded it to pieces? What if I had gotten to the store to buy a new one? Then he would have been on it, especially since it rained and was muddy. Most certainly I would have done that. What if I had taken him out on his leash, like we always did when it rained? What if I wasn't in pain that day and thinking I wouldn't be able to hold him if I did? What if I had just waited ten more minutes for Oliver to come home and do it? And each what if brings more tears, pain and guilt. I know it was an accident. I know it wasn't some mean plan of God's to get me for something. But it still hurts and leaves this awful feeling like I've been punched in the gut. I finally ate dinner last night but today can't eat a thing. I sit here and listen to the quiet, which I know sounds weird, but that's what my world is turning into anyway. My hearing has gotten worse. The ear specialist would like to do surgery to see if he can help, but he's just not sure it will and I'm not sure I want to go through it. I'm getting used to not hearing very well and if the lung disease is going to kill me, what's the point? So forgive me if it takes me a little longer to get over this one. I am feeling very defeated. Just a week ago, we were thanking God once more for the blessings He has bestowed upon us recently. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but Him moving us here and blessing us so in that move, meant everything to us. And Igloo was a big part of that blessing. We still love our beautiful house, we love our new town and the surrounding area, we love our church and most of all we love the people that have welcomed us with open arms and love us back. We know we are still blessed. There is just this empty space now that Igloo had filled and it turns out to be a bigger chunk than either of us probably realized. We thank-God that we had the time with Igloo that we did, every single moment. We just wish there had been many, many more moments. Our hearts are heavy and for me, the streams of tears just will not stop. Thank-you for your prayers. Thank-you for your support. And thank-you for understanding if I tear up at the drop of a hat. I'm vulnerable and that's not an easy place for me to be. I know there are people in justifiably much more pain than I am right now and my heart and my prayers go out to them. The circle of life seems to be watered by the stream of tears. It's all part of the plan, I just don't understand it.