Today my beautiful dog passed away. She is still laying here next to me as I type. My Husband wanted to cover her, but I couldn’t stand that. I need to talk to her, and see her, and pretend she is only sleeping next to me. I know her soul has fled, I saw it go the moment it happened. There a was a groan like an aaaarrhhh when someone jumps a high jump the olympics. or a submissive weightlifter would groan. A noisy exit breath, taking her soul on it.

Her soul is still here, hanging for a bit, I’m ok Loosey, don’t stay on my account. I love you so much you kind beautiful girl. You are my lovingest friend. I don’t deserve such a beautiful generous soul.

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I still want her here with me.

I’ve had people and dogs die before. She isn’t the first. What I know about myself is that I don’t want people to hug me when i’m grieving.

I don’t want people to talk to me when I’m grieving

I don’t want people to touch me when I’m grieving

I’ve been exposed to thousands of people during my personal funerals and burials in the past, and I can remember only a few who touched me.

This is what they did:

They looked into my eyes, and validated my grief silently ( I can tell)

They cried or at least I saw the empathy in their eyes,

They said nothing, they sat with me for a little while, not long, I’m too fragile for more than a minute or so.

I felt a great comfort in the way they let me alone, but I felt the totality of their support.

This is just me, the way I need to be. The way I can handle loss and people surrounding it.

I Love my friend, I asked her to meet me when I cross over. It’ll be a happy day.
I love you so much my Lucy Loo