Tres

Dear Ashley,

It's been a little over three years (last May 12th, we remembered you fondly) since your passing. I've been keeping track of how long it's been since I last saw you and since our world changed forever because of your passing.

I decided to write here again after so long because a friend of mine is mourning the death of her own dog, Jasmine. She told me how bad she was feeling and suddenly, the memories of May 12, 2006 came to mind.

I just used my experience with you, Ash, to help this friend -- to let her know that it's okay to grieve, to be sad, to feel for a dog the way you'd feel if it were a person. I let her know that she's not alone, that she's got people (dog lovers like myself) who are behind her.

Still missing you, Ash. I hope that these last three years in Doggie Heaven have been fun! Have you seen Spikey lately? Take care of Jasmine for my friend, okay? Show her around Doggie Heaven so she meets new doggie friends.

Love you!
Mama Tin

Guardian Ashley

Dear Ash,

Remember Mielz? Her beloved toy Poodle passed away, too. I'm sure you see him around Doggie Heaven. His name is Lance.

Can you do her a favor? Can you watch over Lance? That small guy has a tendency to think he's bigger than he looks and he bullies bigger dogs? Please be on the lookout for him, okay?

The Holidays have been different without you, Ash. But I survived. Be proud of me...

Missing you!

Would Have Been...

Happy Birthday, Ashley!
You would have been 10 years old today.
I still miss you! ♥

Six months later (officially six months on the 12th), I thought that the pain would have gone away. And for the most part, it has.

Or maybe I've just been distracted.

But remembering her still brings a tear to my eye. Yes, she was that kind of dog. If Timmy Martin had a Lassie, I had an Ashley.

*sigh*

Always.

Dear Ash,

It's been more than two months since I last wrote here. And it's not because I've forgotten you or don't miss you anymore. I do. I always think about you and remember you.

But I guess I've gotten over the sadness. It doesn't hurt anymore, and I think it's a good thing.

I guess I'll stop writing here now. Not because I want to close the chapter of your existence. But because I've found other ways and means to carry on your memory.

I'll always love you, Ash. ALWAYS.

Can't wait 'til the day we reunite in Heaven!

Hiya, Ash!

Dear Ashley,

I'm kinda happy today. Happy in the sense that I'm not sad, or stressed, or contemplative. I'm good. Could be better, though. But I'm not complaining. Good is fine for me.

There are lots of times when I remember you. Like whenever I talk to an officemate of mine who's into dogs. Or whenever I play with Cassie and Shadow and feel that there should have been a 3rd dog strolling around the garden with them. Or whenever I see the fake you (a.k.a. your stuffed toy form) and I try to get it to act as if it were you.

I don't like looking at the place you were buried anymore. I just don't tell anyone that. It kinda pains me to see how the mound that was once there is slowly flattening with every rainfall. I don't know. It's as if seeing now-flattened soil just gives finality to your death. No longer does it hold any trace of your shape. It's just sad.

I guess it's true that one never completely gets over the death of a loved one. I don't think I ever really will. If it weren't for all the distractions (work, family, friends, photography, the dogs, etc.), I'd probably be wallowing in misery up to this very day. It's still a weird, uncomfortable feeling knowing you're no longer with us.

Sometimes, I remember those days when I would tell myself, "In the future, when I have my own house, Ash'll be with me." And it saddens me when I think to the future knowing you aren't, in fact, with me any longer. At least not physically. True I'll be carrying the memory of you everywhere I go, but in five or ten years' time, my future husband will never have met you; neither will my kids.

It's sad that they'll never get to meet my all-time favorite dog. (Not that I don't love Shadow or Cassie; I do. But they can never hold a candle to you, and to how close you and I were.) It's sad that every experience I'm about to go through, you won't be there. I won't be able to run to you and give you a squeeze and talk to you.

But life goes on, right?

I've kinda moved on. I really have. I'm no longer grieving; just remembering. Or wondering what could have been. That's all.

I just miss you, that's all.

One Month

Dear Ashley,

It's been one month.

We still miss you.

Cassie's Place in the Grand Scheme of Things

Dear Ashley,

I've noticed, lately, that Cassie's learning where she fits into things. Being a puppy, she probably knows that everyone finds her cute. And so we give in to what she wants; we let her inside the house for a few minutes to tickle-wrestle with her; when she wants to get out of her crate and starts howling, we let her out after a few minutes of her incessant protests.

Things like that.

And then there's Shadow. She's not quite scared of him. In fact, she can engage in some sort of tug-of-war with him without backing down from the fight. She's even tried to eat from his bowl at the same time he's eating, which merits a growl from him. (At least Shadow's threats are limited to just growls; I remember Shadow trying to steal your food from you and that ended up in a bloody mess. You were more possessive of your food, being the food lover that you are.)

So it's safe to say that she's very much a part of the family. Even if it means me waking up at 5am everyday on weekdays, and at 6-something on weekends (which, to the rest of the human race, is downright ungodly), it's a joy to be actively involved in her life and to watch her grow up.

I guess I just wish that I could've been more hands-on with you, especially during your senior years. I took things for granted, relying on helpers to take care of you and Shadow. Cassie is my second chance to make things right.

Tomorrow, June 12, you will have been gone for a month. It's weird. I guess, in a way, we have moved on. There haven't been any tears in a while. And I haven't tuned out or become distracted.

But this isn't because we don't miss you or think about you. We've just learned to channel our sadness into other things. Like in my case, work, my photography, my computer-related hobbies, and the other two dogs. The rest of my family, they've learned to find their own outlets.

I still have moments where I miss you. I remember certain instances, or how you looked like. I see similarities between Cassie and you; like how neatly she eats because you were a neat eater yourself. She also has the same energy that you used to have as a pup.

Though time does heal all wounds, there are certain memories that open the wounds and expose fresh scars for time to heal once more. It's an endless cycle; one that sticks around for the rest of your life.

Not many people have had the chance to have an amazing companion, a best friend in canine form, but my family and I did. You were the definition of loyalty, charisma, and intelligence, all rolled into one black Labrador. You were very special, Ash, and no matter how many dogs we have in the future, they'll never be able to replace you.

So here's to one month of us mourning over you and at the same time, celebrating your life, albeit a short one.

We all love you, Ash.