Last Saturday, April 19th, was the third anniversary of my dog Sawyer’s death. Hard to believe it’s been over three years since I last got to visit, hold, hug, kiss, snuggle, cuddle, walk, play, nap, and care for him. Here’s how it went and how I’m doing after three years without Sawyer.
As always, this anniversary of Sawyer’s death was painful. Overall, it was more painful than an average day in my life. I felt extra sad all this month, and even some late last month knowing what was coming. To my surprise, however, there were almost no tears. The few that did happen mostly came from rereading Mister Rogers’ lovely book When A Pet Dies that morning. As always, I felt better after that brief cry.
This anniversary of Sawyer’s death was the calmest so far. Unlike the first anniversary when I took a bunch of orphaned baby possums to a rehab facility in another city or the second anniversary when I went to another city for a wedding rehearsal, I got to stay in town this year. I juggled with some friends in a local park, pet a cute, friendly little Dachshund, and did lots of letting go at home. In fact, most of my day consisted of staying home and getting things done in between letting go sessions. That’s why it went as well as it did and why I felt ok for most of it. Peace turned out to be much more abundant that day than I thought it would, thank goodness.
Extra busyness at my new job has made this year’s anniversary both easier and harder. It was easier in that burning off extra energy helps me sleep better and heal, and good money coming in regularly means less stress and a greater ability to get what I need (and some of what I want). What made it harder was that I had less time to let go without distractions during the work week (letting go as I do other things is still incredibly difficult for me) and some stresses on the job have added to my pain burden. More than anything, I’m glad my new job gives me Friday through Sunday off every week. Having enough time to rest, play, celebrate, and mourn without going to work at all during and around the anniversary of Sawyer’s death was wonderful.
My own experience on this day each year is that everyone who told me, “The pain never goes away” was wrong. While sometimes the pain is overwhelming on certain days, all the letting go work I’ve done over the past three years has both drastically reduced the total amount of pain around life without Sawyer and minimized the intensity of the remaining pain. I’m certainly glad that the pain has gone down so much over the last three years while the memories, pictures, videos, and several of Sawyer’s personal belongings remain. With continued work over the remaining pain, I believe that it will someday go away completely.
One reason I’m glad that the pain is going away is because each passing second not only takes me further away from my last Earthly moments with Sawyer but also closer to the point that I will have been remembering Sawyer for longer than I knew him. Since we had eleven years together and he’s been gone for three years at this point, it’ll still be a good many years before that happens. While it’s still a ways away, though, I know how fast time can fly. For example, it seems like only yesterday that I was in high school despite the fact that I graduated almost thirteen years ago. With that in mind, I want to be well prepared for the day when Sawyer’s absence from my life will be longer than the time he was present. If I can manage to work through the lingering guilt and shame around things I wish I’d done with Sawyer, things I wish I hadn’t done to him, and how I wish I’d better stood up for him in his final days on Earth, then I’m sure I’ll be able to effectively handle the point at which my time without Sawyer exceeds my time with him. I hope that’s how it will work out, and, above all else, I hope that each moment that takes me further away from my last Earthly visit with Sawyer will also take me closer to our eventual Heavenly reunion.