Of waves and willi-willis…
We scattered Milo’s ashes today.
Lest you not know who Milo is… he is/was my beloved fifteen year old Jack Russell terrier who died of cancer a month ago.
Grief is a funny thing. It gives one headaches, stomach cramps, bone aches, sleeplessness, tears, heaviness, loss of appetite, and anger. That’s what the books say. And it’s true. That’s exactly what our family has felt on and off over the past month without our frenetic little fellow around.
Some days it’s fine… you get on, you do things, you laugh and joke and run a million miles with the joy of living. But then there’s the odd day, maybe more for those who have lost a pet, where grief just grabs you.
Having been through this before, I know it ebbs and flows, that time heals… all those wonderful clichés that are so true.
Let me tell you quickly about today. It was a Milo day… blue and white sky, a barely there offshore breeze and Milo waves… waves that plop apologetically, but in a perfect rolling break from reef to point.
We call them Milo waves because he would chase the break for the full kilometre of the beach. We waded out into the water, our other little JRT wading with us and we let the fine grey ash trickle through our fingers to lie on the surface of the water for a moment before it drifted gently to the sand on the floor of the sea.
As my son sat on the shore putting his shoes back on, a willi-willi (a small whirlwind) came swirling shyly over the sandbank to his left shoulder where it almost surrounded him. We chose to think it was Milo’s spirit letting us know he was with us and that it was exactly where he wanted his remains to be.
And for the rest of the day, the sun warmed and the birds sang in the coastline trees… it wasn’t so bad.
Oh Prue, I’m sitting at my desk dripping tears. What a beautiful tribute. I can’t find the words to do it justice. If you don’t mind I shall tweet it so others may be touched by your love this morning.
Barbara, I dripped tears too. But it was the right thing to do… that day, that time, cathartic really. And thank you for tweeting it… other pet owners will empathise, I know.
Nicely done, Prue.
NB, I think nature did the ‘nicely done’ bit, don’t you? Good to talk!
Aww. Makes me want to go home and give our two lurchers and big hug. They will walk a mile to go round a puddle and pull me over flat to flee an approaching wave that even a tortoise could jump over. Silly buggers.
Give the lurchers a hug from their ozzie auntie. Silly buggers or not, some dogs are water babies, some aren’t. Milo was and taught Young Dog to be a surfie chick!
Oh Prue, this is beautiful! I know Milo is in Dog heaven looking after the family.
Thank you Yashikibuta. His spirit is certainly still with us…
What a touching farewell, Prue. He chases waves forever.
Sylvia, exactly! So true. Thank you.
What a lovely, moving piece!
Anne, it couldn’t fail to inspire me yesterday… it was alive with emotion and visual inspiration… he was that kind of dog.
I’m so sorry to hear that, Pru. What a rough year! I’m glad you found some comfort in this today. It’s written beautifully. Made me tear up!
Aimee, hi. I haven’t talked to you for ages. It’s been a bit of an ‘annus horribilis’, but we must be thankful and move forward with the best memories. Thanks for your kind words.
Oh, Prue, how very beautiful.
Wishing you peace and comfort, for the bad times
Thanks Giselle, friends and memories are what give peace and comfort. Email coming soon.
Exactly Nikalee… much sniffing but all good.
I’m so glad you had a perfect day for your tribute to your friend. Yes, dogs are friends.
Thank you Rowenna. It was. And yes, my dogs are my bestest friends.
Yeah, that about sums it up. I cried so much before Beeper dies that I had few tears left. But afterwards I felt not just his spirit, but all the dogs and cats I’d lost, wandering around the house. Surrounded by ghostly love.
I’m still having the odd cry… it is a hard road, this grief business. I miss him every minute.
I’m so sorry for your loss Mesmered. What a lovely tribute to Milo – forever frolicking in the waves on his favourite beach.
We lost our lovely Laekenois Belgian Shepherd, Bob, on 13th August, to Lymphoma. His ashes are buried in the flower bed next to my washing line – because in the nine years he spent with us, he never missed ‘helping’ me hang the washing – standing by me or dropping a ball at my feet for me to throw. I miss him every day and, like you, have moments when the grief clobbers me afresh. But more and more i think of him with a smile rather than tears – and feel blessed to have had him in my life. As you were blessed to have known your Milo.
I’m so sorry about Bob, Nicola. And yes you are right… clobbering is the word. Sometimes from nowhere. But i agree that the grief softens and the smiles become more regular and there isn’t such a huge hole. I cherish the fifteen years I had with him… he tested me and made me laugh so often. A great dog just as it sounds as though Bob was. Thank you for coming to Mesmered and commenting, it was very kind.