A dog and a walking stick will take you anywhere you need to go in life, especially when you are seeking solace from disappointment and heartbreak and the grief you are carrying.
The dog will guide you, protect you from harm, stop to look at you with those eyes that say, “I know, I get it, you hurt, I am here.” Rubbing up against you to let you know you are not alone; you will feel the unconditional love of a creature who will only hurt you when it is the dog’s time to leave.
I leash Rosie up twice a day. I allow her to choose our route, and along the way she always slows down to turn her head to look at me. She knows my emotions, my moods. She knows when the tears are falling because she can feel those tears in my footsteps. She hurts for me.
The walking stick I use is a metaphor for the friends who have been holding me up as I stumble through my days. They have been doing this for over 3 years, and I needed them less and less except for memory moments, until now. I had not even truly told people I had fallen in love and was hoping for a beautiful relationship till the day I died. I was close to doing that when my world stopped spinning and blew apart.
The shock of having a fractured heart again was as if the power of a tsunami had washed over me and I felt myself drowning in the depths of waves crashing over me. Then I told some friends. I had to do that. Handling the pain alone was more than I was capable of, and those I told call frequently, they email, they text, the message me – they are there again, but he isn’t. The plans, the future, and the love died when he walked out the door.
Here I am again with a dog and my walking stick in life. My sleep is getting better, food is only necessary, and that old pain behind my breast bone has returned.
I am retreating and returning to where I was before mid-April. I am here to help others, which helps me. Loving anyone again is an impossible dream for me. I will stick with my dog and my walking sticks in life.