Such sad news

I know that there has been silence for a few days, not because I had lost interest, but because life took over, and dealt me a very difficult blow that I have been trying to deal with. Some of you know already that my beloved dog Lucy has a deadly form of doggy cancer. She is apparently healthy and still pretty OK. But the doctor has suggested that she be kept pretty quiet, so our daily outings have changed significantly. Dealing with this news was a terrible shock and I couldn't think of losing her without weeping. However, over the course of the week, I have come to deal with with the idea of losing her, only because I have had to, and have spent a great deal of time reflecting on the eight happy years we have had together. Her doggy smiles have gladdened my heart in countless ways, her singular way of cuddling me while I was reading, of comforting me when I was sad and of bringing joy to my days is something I will keep with me forever. I refuse to lose a moment of the precious time we have left worrying about how my life will be without her. I will dwell in the happy times, and our life will be normal as long as we can.
This anticipated loss is allowing me to slow my pace, and to spend time thinking about all that is truly nurturing in the world if we allow it to be. I wonder now how many moments we let pass without appreciating them simply because we know that there will be many more of them to come. There is the little kid in the supermarket cart who catches your eye, and you have a flash of communication. There is the elderly person to whom you lend a hand on a busy day, and then don't really take a just another moment to listen to their heartfelt appreciation. It makes me think of all the times that I have not managed to put myself in the place of someone else and really understand what is making them tick. We veer away from the angry person, from the depressed person, because emotions are contagious, when an attentive ear might be just the thing they need. We fear the homeless person on the street without a thought as to what might have brought them to this situation. I don't for a moment believe that most people are not of good intentions. But we use the excuse that we are busy and hurried, when a smile or a moment might make all the difference. A couple of weeks ago I was walking along the boulevard, when walking toward me was a young man who for all I knew could have been a thug, because he sure looked dangerous. He was well built, dark, and scowling. He look at me as he walked in my direction, and as I usually do, I smiled at him. It was amazing to me to see his look of surprise, and then to see him also break into a smile, changing his whole face and demeanor. He seemed to relax and to stand up straighter. I hope that something that cost me nothing but the rearrangement of some facial muscles carried him through the day.
In my life, I have been fortunate to be very blessed with examples of love and sharing. My father was a man who was very loved and respected in business, in our religious community and by everyone he knew. Although he has been dead for many years, my brother and I remember that when we visited him at work, if we walked though the building for some reason, other shop keepers came out of their offices to greet him warmly. He had a smile and a good word for everyone and left a legacy of warmth with everyone who knew him. I wonder how many other people walk through their world with smiles that are contagious, but go unremarked or unnoticed. If my father had a motto, it would have been along the lines of "share your warmth, it doesn't cost you a thing and it might make a great difference to someone else". What a privilege to learn that from someone who lived it every day.
Knowing that I am losing Lucy, a bright spot in my existence, has made me want to look for that love and warmth in other unexpected places. I used to take Lucy to an old age home every week to visit the residents, and they loved her gentleness and sweetness. How many times did I hear them reminisce about their dog "Fluffy" or "Tippy" who brought so much love into their lives. So for the moment, I will recapture my smiles that I have always been happy to share, and I will follow in my father's footsteps of warmth and positivity. I will treasure each Lucy doggy smile and pass it on. I will cuddle her as long as I can, and let the loss teach me things, just as having her in my life has taught me things that I would never have known without her. I will treasure moments that might have been taken for granted. Lucy has been my pet, my teacher, my friend, the repository of my secrets, my mentor. I have tried to be for her the best mommy I could.
So, share your smiles, and look for places you can make a difference with them. The is Lucy's and my dad's legacy. After all, it doesn't cost you a thing.