Don't Miss Anything - Sue

I just have to say this.

I was rooting around for my collection of toenail clippings when I came across an old daytimer. It's one of 793 that I've bought in my life and never used. I've had all the good intentions that pave the way to hell, but I misplace the daytimer and the next time I see it, a couple of years have passed. Like now.

I flipped through it anyway just in case I'd jotted anything down of note. All blank. Wait. Flipped again. Some scribbles here. Monday, September 15, 2008. "Bought this today. Walked to Daughter's new house. Son-in-Law tearing down walls. P and I bbsat Grandson. Played volleyball in living room.

Talked to Dr. Hillis about Peevey. She said remember when she was 2 yrs old what made her happy. Can she still do that?"

September 16, 2008: "Peevey is wobbly on her legs. I went to Alameda East and got the pain med after piano lesson. She got stuck under the bed. When I pulled her out she still didn't care to get up. She doesn't care about frisbee or ball.

Peevey died today."

September 17, 2008: "I put primer on Grandson's room on Birch St. First went to HD and got primer and wood. Have the night off work.

It's the first day without Peevey. I only fed two dogs. It felt like she was still hanging around. I told her it was okay to go, but I didn't really mean it. I want to go wherever she is and be with her. I can still feel how soft her fur is and smell her forehead. I kissed her just before she died."

September 20, 2008: "Took only two dogs for a walk. Practiced my song - Peevey's song. Hung up her collar on her painting. Got sympathy card from Laurie the mail lady."

That's what I just had to say, because that is what I came across yesterday. There is a big glass vase with a hole at the bottom where pieces of what are part of my life keep flowing out, sort of like sand, but more like a clear, liquid gel. As it flows out, it gets filled at the top with new pieces of what are part of my life. So the glass vase is always full.

There are parts that never leave though, that are locked away and I hope forever, as long as I don't lose my memory. I can always remember the soft fur like down and the smell of her forehead pressed against my face, feel her paw resting lightly on my knee. The trick to being okay with all of that seems to be recognizing when the glass vase is filling up with new stuff. It would be a shame to miss something. If I hadn't been watching when Peevey came along, I'd have missed her. And if I wasn't keeping a good eye out, I'd miss you, too.