February,
March, and April are particularly difficult months for me. February 12 is the day
my wife died, March 13 is her birthday, and April 8 is our wedding anniversary.
So I tend toward the morbid until those dates pass. Each year (it’s been five
now since she died), becomes a bit easier, and something happened a few days
ago that lightened my mood. It takes a bit of explanation. (Big surprise,
right?)
My
older son is single and has some physical and emotional issues. He and his
mother had a rocky … no, that’s not being honest … a difficult
relationship. He is something of a loner, and a score of years ago, we were pleased
when he got a German Shepard/Husky cross, which he named Lieba. She was a
lively pup of about seven months at the time. She became his friend, his
companion, and at times, his connection with reality. He tended her needs,
including walking for exercise, but she gave back more than she received.
Lieba
was truly a wonderful dog. Gentle. Patient. Protective. Loving. She grew to be
quite sizeable, and in her later years, a little overweight. She was my son’s
constant companion, and often his only companion. When she was around eighteen,
she developed cancer, and her decline was difficult to watch. She tried her
best to continue to be his shadow, but when she began hiding in the closet, we
knew the inevitable was near. The day he took her to the vet to end her pain,
Betty and I were unhappy that she was disappearing from our lives, but mostly
we were apprehensive over how our son would handle the loss of what sometimes
appeared to be his only friend.
Shortly
after Lieba’s death, our son picked up and moved to Texas, heightening our fear
for him. However, he coped and built a life for himself there. When his mother
died, I don’t believe my son actually dealt with the fact. Over time, his
attitude toward her has mellowed, and when we spoke on the phone the other day,
he planted a great picture in my mind.
“Dad,
I’ve been thinking about Mom a lot lately, and do you know what I see? I see
Lieba at her side, taking care of her.”
I
don’t know what he could have said that would be more uplifting.
Thanks
for indulging me in something so personal.
Don
Next week: Another Flash
Fiction Story
New posts are published at 6:00
a.m. each Thursday.
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