In Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, the main characters erase their memories of each other after their painful breakup. I’ve talked about that movie before so I won’t rehash it all here. Instead, I will focus on a brief scene that has stuck with me since I first saw it.
When Joel is at the memory erasing facility, a woman in the waiting room can be seen holding a variety of dog-related objects, including a picture of a dog and a bowl with the name “Buster” on the side. This suggests that she is there to erase the memories of her beloved dog after he died. She may have believed the pain to be beyond what she could bear and was willing to give up all of her memories of him as well as all of his belongings if doing so meant being free from the pain.
I could never erase my memories of my dog Sawyer. Beyond the confusion that would result from huge parts of my life suddenly being gone, I wouldn’t want to lose all the good stuff he gave me. All the love he showed me when I desperately needed it, all the times he made me laugh until I cried, all the ways he showed me how to better love myself and those close to me, and all the hard times during which he was there for me when nobody else was. I couldn’t stand to lose all of that. Nor could I stand to lose his beds, towels, blankets, toys, dishes, and other things he used regularly; his fur, whether the small bit I saved from his final moments or the fur I still find on my robe, blanket, clothes, and in other random places; the nose and paw prints the folks at the vet made for us after that final vet visit; and all the pictures, videos, documents, and gifts I have that feature him. All of that reminds me that Sawyer was here and it takes me back to the many wonderful experiences we shared. Giving all of that up is unfathomable to me.
Sawyer died a little over six months ago. Since then, I’ve had a lingering fear of forgetting precious moments we shared or even forgetting him entirely. This fear is exacerbated by the fact that many of the changes that have occurred since his death make it seem like he was never here at all. That’s why every day I revisit pictures and videos of him and update my Sawyer Moments list. I want to preserve as much as I can so I’ll remember him as vividly as possible, for as long as possible, and as closely as possible to who he was. I’d hate to forget him or become fixated on an idea of him that is vastly different than his actual self.
As I look back on pictures and videos of Sawyer, I often see things that I either forgot about or never noticed in the first place. Sometimes I notice toys of his that disappeared long ago and that I haven’t thought about in years. Other times I’ll see furniture that is no longer in the house or is now in a different part of the house. Often, especially when comparing old pictures and videos to more recent ones, I’ll see how some of his fur, especially around his face, went from brown to white as he aged. Most of the changes in his appearance happened so gradually over the course of his life that I didn’t notice them as they were happening. Only by looking back can I see the differences.
Even though I’ve worked through a lot of pain these past six months, I still have a lot of it left. Despite the pain, I am so thankful to still have so many wonderful memories of Sawyer. Our time together was overwhelmingly positive and I’m going to carry it with me for the rest of my life. I’m thankful I learned about letting go and got good at managing my emotions in a healthy way during his life. That emotional intelligence is allowing me to release the pain of losing him while still keeping all the good stuff he gave me. Even if I couldn’t eliminate any of that pain without also letting go of the memories, I’d still choose to keep my memories of him. Sawyer was my best friend ever. He made me a better human and I can’t imagine where I’d be at this point if our paths had never crossed. Though he may be gone physically, his memory and all the love he gave me will stay with me for the rest of my days.