HEARTBROKEN
After only three hours' sleep Friday night, I found myself wide awake, struck by how much I miss my little Abby. My eyes began to water, and I couldn't stop the tears. Since we had to put her down just one week after we buried my Dad, I guess I didn't really get a chance to grieve completely with everything else going on.
I got out of bed and tip-toed to the guest room where I keep a few things in her memory, and I just broke down. I realized yesterday morning I still have a lot of grieving to do. 
"But she's just a dog," people would say. Nothing would irritate me more than to be told that my companion of 14 years was "just a dog." She was anything BUT "just a dog." She was my child and significant other, all wrapped in one little bundle of fur. She was an angel of God, I have no doubt. Through this precious little mutt, God taught me a lot about unconditional love, letting go of having to have everything in the house just right, seeing to the needs of others before self. Many times, if Abby and I were both in need of medical attention at the same time and I only had money for one of us, she'd get taken care of without hesitation.
As I sat in the dark with her very first toy--her "Snuggle Bunny"--held close, sobbing till my eyes hurt, I imagined myself once again kissing her little head "night-night" before we'd fall asleep. I can still smell the velvety-soft fur on the top of her head.
I asked God to forgive me for holding on to her longer than I probably should have--she was getting frail and ill, but because I still saw that little of that spark in her eye now and then when I'd go out to give the dogs their treats, I talked myself into believing that she still had some quality of life. Now I see I was just being selfish. It was so hard to give up and let her go.
I sat in that dark room for a couple of hours, crying and holding on to Snuggle Bunny, making peace with the whole thing. But I know the grieving isn't over. God's Word says he heals the brokenhearted, and I asked him to PLEASE heal my broken heart. Every time I see a little black-and-white terrier as I'm driving, tears begin to well up and I have to talk myself out of another meltdown.
God's Word is true, and I must believe that he will heal my broken heart. Until that day, I miss my little Abby with all my heart.
