And stay, she did.
We had to say goodbye to our sweet 17-year-old Diamond dog on this past Sunday. I am incredibly sad, but I know I don’t have to drink over this loss. I have to sit with the pain of her leaving—and feel it. We were blessed with so many days with her. Most of you know that I count my days of sobriety and she has been here for all of them—5,501 days.
A friend wrote this to me, “A piece of our hearts get damaged with our losses, but that just means we lived and loved fiercely and vulnerably. Accepting the transition because we felt love is difficult—but how blessed we were to have had it.”
Wow. So true. Fiercely and vulnerably. Something I avoided in my drinking days because it was so much easier to NOT feel and to check out over such sadness.
Drinking is just not an option for me anymore. Period.
I know what to do. Reach out for support. Keep loving. Don’t shut down. Go to meetings. Pray for strength.
My nephew pointed out to me that God gave us animals to teach us about the perfect love of God. On display for us in dogs is the purest form of love, with none of the other human stuff attached like, jealousy, fear, anger, resentment, holding grudges...
Death took me to the bottom of my drinking many days ago. I don’t have to check out over death anymore. I have experienced many human deaths and three dog losses in sobriety. I am here to tell you that I can do this life—and live through loss—sober. I know you can do the same.
Here’s what I have learned about sobriety from my dogs:
It’s a simple program, but it’s not easy. If we can take a lesson from dogs and pay attention to our Master, we will get the treat.
Don’t quit five minutes before the miracle.
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
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