The Grip of Grief, One Year Later

Today is the one-year anniversary of my beautiful girl Sierra’s passing. If you’ve followed my books or social media, no doubt you’ve seen many photos of her, and read stories about her as well. But photographs and words can’t express the depth of my grief over her loss. I’m no stranger to grief, having lost other dogs and human family members. When our dog Mojo died, it took me a very long time to be okay again. But Sierra was my soul dog and constant companion, laying by my feet as I worked, encouraging me now and then to take a break and just enjoy our time together. No matter what type of day I was having, just petting her and seeing her look lovingly into my eyes always made it better. When I lost her, something broke inside me. It will never be the same.

People who don’t have dogs may not be able to understand just how deeply their loss can cut. But those of us who have shared our lives with these amazing beings, who have had that one special heart dog, or soul dog, understand all too well. Here is a poem I wrote for Sierra when she was ten years old and beginning to slow down. I’ve never posted it before, as I don’t normally share much that’s very personal on social media...but I know many of you can relate. Hold your dogs close while you can.

For Sierra

When the Mighty Mojo Man took his last breath

I thought it would be mine as well

A year floated by on a saltwater sea

and then I found you

soft fur pressed against cold metal bars

leaning into hope

I knew you were mine

Now 10 years intertwined

we round the trails

you racing ahead

but always stopping to look back

waiting for me

Mommy’s Little Predator

spies a rabbit

does a quick time-speed calculation

then wistfully looks away

The hitch in your gait

the slow of your step

makes it hard not to think

about the inevitable

But the sparkle in your eyes

your keen lust for life

remind me to live in the moment

as you, my greatest teacher, does

When the time comes

when you put on that final burst of speed

and race where I cannot follow

I know you’ll be stopping to look back

waiting for me.