A Letter to Hurley

My Dearest Boy,

You left us 5 weeks ago.  My heart is broken. In difficult times, you have always been there for me, and now I need you more than ever. I know you are here with us, but I want to see you, smell you, hug you. The house is void, quiet…it is not the same. WE are not the same. You have been such a significant part of this family and the emptiness you have left is excruciating.

You have given me more in your 6 short years than I could ever have imagined. You have changed my life in ways that I could never truly explain, although I find myself trying; in a million lifetimes I could never repay you for the love you have given to me, to our family. You have taught me how to be a Mama and to love unconditionally; you have taught me patience; you have taught me GRATITUDE; you have taught me to enjoy the simplest moments for what they are.  STOP…and instead of smelling the roses, I would smell you! ;) I am eternally grateful for you, my big man.

The house is not the same – it no longer feels like HOME. There is no THUMP of you jumping off the bed when I come in; or the thunderous noise of paws barreling down the stairs, no aggressive bum wiggle for a welcome. The spot under the coffee table is empty. Your food and water bowls remain untouched…they are exactly how you left them. There is no ‘warning bark’ when Daddy gets home or when someone rings the doorbell. The pizza guy came…and it was AWFUL.  No one barked or sneezed at him. You aren’t here for me to spend time with while the kids are napping. Your chair is still as is in Gracie’s room, with your sheet - which I will not wash for fear of losing your smell.  YOUR SMELL…I find myself desperately looking for things with your smell.  We can still smell you in your corner of the closet. When I get up in the morning I still pull up the covers and arrange your comforter on the bed for you. I am instinctively picking up shoes out of habit…thinking you are going to chew them to pieces. Night is the worst. You aren’t here for one of us to bring you down from your slumber in Grace’s room before bed, let you out, lock the door behind you, and give you a bedtime treat. We HATE not being able to say to each other, "send Hurl down when you go upstairs?" Your chair is empty…I hate that you are not there for me to say goodnight to, then tell you to “come sleep with Mommy when you’re ready.” Then I would hear you ever so gently hop up on the bed, curl up in between Daddy and I, or directly on our legs, and let out a big sigh. There is no bulldog snore when I wake up at night…there is no sound of you whimpering in your dreams.

I have not been able to move your things. It is hard to look at your pictures right now. Bentley asks for you. He talks about your 'wings' since you are our angel now; he says he loves you; he says he wants you to fall down from the sky.  I tell him you are with us, watching over us as our guardian angel; you are in the moon and the stars at night, you are up in the sky…but then sometimes he still talks about going to pick you up at the doctor. Grace will grab my necklace with your photo and give it kisses.  I brought back out your big igloo bed and your toys that had been put away for the open house…and moved your downstairs bed on to the floor next to my side of the bed along with your jacket, stuffed guys, and some collars. The sound of your green whale collar with all of your tags…when it jingles…is torture. It’s not actually YOU making the noise. Your bells are still by the back door.

Your routine has always been such a part of my day, especially since your diagnosis – meds, appointments…and the lack of caring for you and spending time with you has left a gaping hole. It’s an emptiness no one can fill.

Our cancer journey together has provided opportunities and opened doors for me that I could have never imagined…opportunities to help others and pay forward the love you have given me. Your story has helped other doggie parents who are going through the same journey with their fur babies.  I promise to find ways to honor you, carry on your legacy, and pay forward the love you have shared not only with us, but with all you have met.

I miss you.

WITH ALL MY LOVE, FOREVER,

Mommy

“Hurley’s Mama”