Thank you for “Half the battle is just showing up.” - Stephen Hawking 

Thank you for another reminder on being vulnerable. It means I’m aware that I may seem foolish, dumb, whatever, yet I go ahead and share.

Thank you for LP’s vulnerability to disclose painful personal experiences.

Thank you for Sister C’s animated shark singing Ave Maria in her voice. Thank you for her creative humor.

Thank you for Sister A’s liveliness and funky salutations. Thank you for her generous care.

Thank you for a walk along Juan Tabo when the funny thought sprouted that loneliness is a shark with no teeth. The real danger comes when fleeing it leads us to hazardous spots.

Thank you for a daily practice of asking the universe to guide me: “I’m surrendering to you. Please take control. Reveal the way forward.” Ideas have been popping up. My eyes see little signs in daily life and inner view has landed on insights.

Thank you for fruits of trust in a greater intelligence.

Thank you for bantus giving a built-in pillow or bumpers to cushion my head during sleep.

Thank you for the vibrance fresh beets add to smoothies. Thank you for their reasonable cost.

Thank you for inadvertent seagull sounds issuing from landlocked toddlers.

Thank you for this five-minute clip on mindfulness and climate action.

Thank you for snowflakes caught on my eyelashes like in that Sound of Music song.

Thank you for relationship advice to my future self. Since understanding is essential to love, healthy relationships involve honest and ongoing efforts at mutual understanding. It, too, is a salve that generates forgiveness. We grow forgiveness (for ourselves and others) when we offer time, listening, and understanding through a selfless lens. 

Thank you, again, if advice to myself offers a boost beyond me. 

Thank you for calming visits to Dodd Hall when depression raged like a hurricane ages ago. It must be similar to riding in the car for cranky babies or browsing Tiffany’s for Holly Golightly’s mean reds.

Thank you for Peaches’ existence in the analog world attracting my presence there.

Thank you for her presence starving my negativity and nourishing positivity. Her way of being cultivated joy. Closeness to her fed warmth. I hope to honor her by keeping those qualities alive.

Thank you for her cuddles.

Thank you for the friends she drew near.

Thank you for habits of care for my lady reinforcing habits of care for myself.

Thank you for the structure she added to each day. She was my anchor.

Thank you for the preparation our time together gave me for our time apart. 

Thank you for her last moments with us.

Thank you for a sensitive, compassionate vet to facilitate her transition.

Thank you for nothing to say to her lifeless body. The vet was about to leave the room so I could be with it alone, but it didn’t feel necessary. I had already shared my heart with her while she lived. Plus, she’s in my heart now.

Thank you for love from friends and family.

Thank you for the ends of lives and relationships sometimes being less traumatic when those lives and connections enjoyed healthy fullness on some measure.

Thank you for how I wouldn’t notice the cold now if not for her warmth.

Thank you for when I explored loneliness by asking what it is. “It’s a feeling.” Okay, then what is a feeling? No answer needed for that one. I get that loneliness won’t consume me. We can converse. I have choices—to acknowledge it, respect the feeling, and let it teach me as I mend.

Thank you for the foresight to know I’d be disoriented after she was gone. A walk outside brought peace. Then I sorted through her belongings and washed her bedding, leash, and harness. The next day I dropped off her stuff at the animal clinic, where staff and I exchanged condolences and gratitude. One blanket, a dog tag, and a lock of fur are what I kept; the rest is gone—I envy her tiny paw print! Anyway, clearing out reflects the reality of a different life.

Thank you for a new chapter opening, a chance to surrender and be led. Thank you for opportunities to honor my lady baby by making good of this next chapter.

Thank you for nature abhorring a vacuum. (I wonder if that Far Side comic is still taped to Calvin’s office door...)

Thank you for the balance between fear and courage tipping in favor of the latter at the moment. I fear you may judge me for loving and grieving in a foreign way but accept my personal perspective as worthy to share. Maybe it’ll be of use. This helps me, anyhow.

Thank you for yoga chitta vritti nirodha.

Thank you for ho’oponopono and its similarities to what I learned from Dad’s hospice care. They taught the practice to help with closure.

Thank you for the beauty of life.