They’re just stories now. (Part 1)

Metaphysical Cowboy
Aug 30
6 min read

This piece was going to be all about my grieving process; it’s now more than that. My beautiful dog Dolly had to be put down at the end of May. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. To take the thing I loved the most and ask someone to kill her was pretty traumatic. I knew it was the right thing, but that didn’t really help in the moment. It broke my heart. But can I keep it open? Even as I write this, tears are wanting to flow.

My last blog I put out featured Dolly, and it was called Sweetheart. I didn’t know at the time that this was one of my goodbyes. She was a very old dog, and I knew a time would come but was frightened I wouldn’t know when. So I asked. I asked to be shown when it was time. True to form, I was. It was a beautiful yet mundane chance meeting, some words exchanged and tears. The topic didn’t even revolve around Dolly, but what was said was my sign.

The next morning Dolly took a turn for the worse, and I could see she was ready. I looked into her eyes and knew. I didn’t want this but knew it was right. The call was made and the day unfolded, and I returned home without my beautiful Dolly. We had our moment to say goodbye, and that’s all the comfort I could find.

Now, you don’t know me, but if you did, you would know that this dog was my life. I was aware this was an easy love to give. She was the only thing I’d allowed myself to love to this level. I knew the safety in this. I also knew the danger, as one day she would be gone. I think a part of me held some back for this very reason. I’d like to think it increased as I opened more and my love could go deeper, and I wasn’t always looking for safe love. She had helped me over the years feel into this. My greatest teacher.

The days that followed were painful, especially the mornings. By day three, I had noticed that the mind was causing a lot of the pain. I didn’t want to avoid anything, but I also didn’t want to create any unnecessary suffering. My mind would start to run a story that I would never hold her again, never see her again, and never look into her eyes again. This was true, and it needed to be felt, but I could feel that it was also lacking in some ways. While in the shower crying, I thought of reaching out to a woman I’d worked with some time ago. A deeply spiritual woman who had walked me through feeling things I’d buried and never felt. She helped me to open my heart. I knew she was an animal lover. I wanted her to tell me that it was all ok and Dolly understood. I caught this thought and could see that it would be just another outside voice—an outside thought and opinion that could then battle with my own thoughts and opinions. It wasn’t a knowing from within.

Although I realised I didn’t want an outside thought or opinion, I did look up Eckhart Tolle and his take on grief. I’m sure the woman I wanted to reach out to would have pointed me to the same place Eckhart did.

We love the essence of a thing. This essence comes in a form that our form can interact with, but it is the essence we fall in love with. Their essence connects with ours. We share this. It is true of all things. He suggested that rather than live in the thoughts of them—which will always either sit in the past or what we can no longer have in the future—we instead feel the essence. I did, and it worked. I could feel her once more. Whenever I would find myself in thought, I would rest in her feeling and essence. I was now concerned I was maybe bypassing the pain. I didn’t want to miss any of it. I wanted to honour Dolly in death by feeling it all. I also had this feeling that it was going to be very important to my growth. I was frightened of what I may feel and go through, but there was this excitement mixed in with it. It was an unknown I was wandering into.

I called my trusted friend to ask if I was possibly bypassing some of the pain. She assured me I wasn’t. She also did say to honour the form missing the other. We are human for a reason, and although this is painful, it’s also the most beautiful thing. I could see this beauty, I could feel this beauty. We choose this because it is so profound—to feel the love and loss of this place we call Earth. Life begins and ends. The two greatest miracles that nothing escapes, yet our minds cannot fathom them. We all come from a place and return. Honestly, my mind will never understand this. But behind the mind, I can feel the truth and the beauty.

Our minds can only hold the stories and the memories. Our hearts and souls can still feel the presence of their essence. It truly does never leave—maybe because it was never really here.

As the days and weeks unfolded, the pain lessened. I would still have days where I missed her so much and just cry while making a cup of tea. This felt right, it felt natural, and not all made by the mind. This felt like grief. Around the month mark, it hit hard again. My mind started to remember the younger Dolly before she got old. I’d remember what amazing times we had—the long day adventures and walking, the traveling together, the work dog commuting into London with me for meetings or freelance work. All the amazing things she was. I now missed that. I also think it was that my form had not touched hers in a month. My body now missed her. My spirit could still touch and feel her essence, but the form could not. To me, this is all such a beautiful thing—beautifully painful, yes, but somehow remarkable at the same time. It’s hard to explain. This love I’d carried was no less or diminished even though the body had departed. Love truly does cross all time and space barriers. This blew my mind—that we could still love something that no longer inhabited this earth. The question of what love is felt nice. Some part of me knew what it was, but my mind could not go there.

I’d only just realised I’d always done this with souls I’d loved and lost—this ability to feel their essence. It just naturally occurred before, but now I was consciously able to feel it. I was now able to bring anyone I’d lost over the years into my field of feeling. It just required me to be still and feel into the essence of them. It felt all-encompassing, almost like a sphere of them, with every aspect within able to be felt. All of them all at once, but somehow multiple aspects at the same time. No images or memories—just a feeling of them. ESSENCE.

Earlier I said Dolly was my greatest teacher. That’s not strictly true—everyone and everything within my life is a teacher. She just had longer with me to be frustrated at my lack of awareness and learning. She was always patient and forgiving. Never required anything I couldn’t give. I’d say she felt a little frustrated at times but accepted me as I was. That’s why it’s easy to love animals. It’s like kindergarten for love. I protected, cherished, and loved that dog with all I could give.

A good friend told me there would be many goodbyes, maybe thousands. Each moment without her would be a new goodbye. I’ve had many since she left this place. I’m sure they will continue, but with maybe less frequency. Dolly is still teaching, even after she has left. The lessons of who and what feels this grief is an ongoing question. She led me to a place where I may find some answers within…

For Dolly.

As I woke, I wanted to undo yesterday, I wanted you back.

You’d always helped me through my grief.

What now?

I want my restrictions back.

I don’t want to drink my tea in the morning without interruption.

I want to take you out in the rain.

I want to make your food.

I want to clean your face.

I want to carry you up and down the stairs.

I so miss the silence we shared.

I don’t know how many goodbyes I will have to say, but I’m grateful for them all.