Missing Our Girl

Sheila Maloney – Photo: L. Weikel

It’s funny how memory and emotions work. Sometimes it seems there’s no rhyme or reason why a loved one (human or otherwise) suddenly comes to mind and slices open our heart unbidden. When I opened my eyes this morning, lingering in that between space of neither awake nor asleep, I suddenly found myself overcome with missing our girl. Missing my Sheila.

Grief is like that. It’s sneaky and cruel, in a way.

If I scratch the surface, though, I probably only label it as cruel because the intensity of that missing, the sudden, excruciating awareness of that void, can knock the breath out of us – especially when we don’t see it coming. And that’s sort of how it is after they’ve been gone a while.

And so it was this morning as I lay in bed, swimming to the surface of consciousness, remembering who and where and when I am, that I yearned to hold my puppy Sheila again. I remembered with acute clarity laying in bed with her years ago, stroking the white streak that ran down her nose and always reminded me of a feather, telling her what a precious puppy she was.

The Fire Brigade (Tigger, Spartacus, Cletus) – Photo: L. Weikel

Something In the Air

About an hour or two later, I took a photo of Spartacus (her son), who was snoozing in front of the fireplace with two of his (feline) brothers, Cletus and Tigger.

I texted the photo to my youngest son without a word of context.

His response? “Wow, what babies. Miss that pup.”

Then a handful of seconds later: “Oh. Wow. I thought that was Sheila.”

Sheila was his pup. Or I should say, he was her boy.

For whatever reason, her memory, her essence, the loving energy that was our ‘Sheila Monster,’ was visiting both of us today. Pennsylvania, Massachusetts – it didn’t matter where we were. Her playful, protective, and utterly sweet-natured essence enveloped us both in the memory of her love.