Dunkin' Tears

Thanksgiving is around the corner and Dunkin' would always be the 1st to eat. I always made him his plate of thanksgiving food, with stuffing, gravy and all the trimmings. How he would eat until he was the size of the bird itself, then he would sleep the rest of the day. He deserved my love for many years. I deserved his. I am thankful every moment I breath that the Dunk was in my life and that he will always be part of me.

I also thank karma for in knowing that karma exists, I also know the people who extinguished Dunkin's light are already paying for their deeds. It is not even in my hands. I can only control my state and I do the best I can. I miss you dear boy. Momma misses you at night, and I know you know it. How I miss those long dog legs and that sound you made in gratitude of hugs and smiles. Wish I had you now to help out with my left hand again. It's not looking too happy and it's feeling a bit blue, tingly, and numb sometimes. I fight it, Dunkin'. I do what I know how to and it's just a lot more difficult without you near.

Too Many Tears Have Had To Fall

Phoenix's song "If I Ever Feel Better" pretty much sums me up.



I'm at the point of thinking... IF I ever feel better. I do sometimes. Sometimes.


My hands are lovely, they brush my hair and my teeth, they can thread a needle, they elegantly lift items and wash dishes, they type and allow me to express myself. My hands are milky peach and scarred in my right ring finger, there is a ring on my left middle finger, I adorn my wrist with a Frida Kalho bracelet and I have other scars from art projects, one when I was in the 4th grade carving a stamp, another when I was doing a mural in Arizona, both are on my thumbs. My veins show through my translucent skin and there is some metal inside one of my fingers to it would mend correctly at one point. And now, these lovely hands are weak.

All I can do is rub them, flex them, message them and start feeling better. I wish I could dip them in purple paint and watch it drip down to my elbows. My hands want to be playdough, a bright blue or lively green. They want to be lace, my petite hands, covered in lace and sipping on tea in the middle of Deadwood, South Dakota. My hands want to feel the buttery softness of a child's skin, the warmth of a man's elegant hand on mine, the silky trusses of my hair, the bark of a tree. I am thankful for my hands and thankful that Dunkin' used to know when I needed them licked. Dunkin' used to know. Dunkin' would lick the forhand, exactly where it was weak, or numb. He brought me such hope. They killed my hope in Arizona. No wonder my hands are weak. No wonder my spirit is wounded. No wonder I hope to feel better and be reminded to so spend some good time with you.

There are things in my life I can't control, I feel the chaos around me, a thing I dont try to deny, I better learn to accept that, there's a part of my life that will go away.- Phoenix

Happy Birthday, Dunkin'

Today would be your 8th birthday, love. How we celebrated for 7 years and had so many parties and cherished times. I remember your face glow with the candle on a cupcake in front of your brown face. I'm yearning for your love again, your innocence and protection. You were so happy with me. You literally smiled at times, so many times. I wish I would have powers to bring you back, I would use them. What's the point in even saying that, Dunkin'. Oh Dunkin', my Dunkin' dog. Some people don't get it, and some others really do. Either way, you are 8 now, somewhere, in my world, I will sing for you today. Happy birthday to you dear Dunkin'. My little man, little lovely life that touched me with love just at the sight of you. My organs want to jump out of my body sometimes in such despair. My stomach, the heart organ, they hurt when I walk around or sit and think about how we were torn apart. The tears that fall heavily onto my lap splatter like stars because they are SO heavy. Why even write when a picture is worth more.

Happy Birthday my little love. I miss you and granny and gramps and Rudy love and miss you too. I can only wish to feel you again, somewhere.

Everything for a reason

I am having a difficult time with time. Everyone says that time heals all wounds. Lies. Time is nothing more than a unit of measurement from event "a" to event "b". Dunkin' would be 8 in a couple of days and the time (whether it is a day, an hour, or one month) that has past since his death has done nothing to sooth me. I do not admit this to several people and the truth is, I cry daily and nightly. I was told recently that my eyes betray my emotions. He said that even when I am happy, my eyes always look sad. Seems to me like the windows to my soul are quite transparent.

I met someone yesterday that I knew I would meet one day. I met the man who designed the Macy's Balloons. I always pictured a Dunkin' the Service Dog Macy's Day balloon and I said to him, "It's great to finally meet you. You will design the Dunkin' balloon someday." We smiled and will jam again next week. Dunkin' would have loved last night. The boy adored live music and a bohemian lifestyle... anything that made his momma happy and calm.

When I cry I do it to myself. I can stop it, if anyone can. It's mighty hard to do. I'm in this alone and alone is new to me. Or, rather... without Dunkin'... that's what is new to me. I am doing my best and that's about all I can do.

October

Dunkin' should have been 8 years old this month on the 23rd. I already am at a loss for how I feel regarding his birthday. I always had a party for him, I have video of them as well. If I had a computer at home and some internet access I would post those memories. Last year it was somber as I was in a nasty relationship. The year before it was so much fun. Either way, he had 7 great birthdays...almost 8.

Last year... last year... I had him. Last year I entered him in the Dog Day Masquarade contest in Times Square. He was Young Dunkenstein. He was so adored, so loved by all who saw him. The Broadway actor who played Young Frankenstein took a particular liking to Dunkin'. And Dunkin', being the Zen puppy that he is, reveled in the love. I loved teaching him that he should enjoy hugs and love from good people. He always looked at me for approval and he always got it. He never needed it from me but he just always looked at me. He was always aware of me... where I was, was I safe, was I sad... nobody has cared for me with such intent other than my own mother.

I miss you Dunkin' dog. I hate saying that I miss you because I should not have to. I love you, Dunkin'.

Dunkin' Dream

Dunkin' was in my dream briefly last night. I was unaware of him in the dream. I expected him to be there, part of my daily life as he once was for almost 8 years. I awoke satisfied, just wishing that I could have noticed him running circles happily in my dream. I should have picked him up and loved him. Instead, a large black fluffy cat with white paws made a bed of my face. The cat rubbed its face and white muzzle all over my mouth and cheeks repeatedly. I fell asleep in my dream to this large cat loving me in its cat way. In real life I would have sneezed it off of me as I am allergic to cats. Either way, I recall feeling so much affection. Just what I needed to generate in my own brain I suppose. I miss Dunkin's affection. I miss showing him mine. This is why all of my friends are getting longer hugs and why I am like a lost child looking for who I can hug next.

Buddhist path

In the darkness of grieving a traumatic loss I am fortunate to have made several friends here and in other states/ countries. these friends are what help me dry my tears and keep my chin up. Sometimes all I need is a hug, just some body to hold me. It's a new thing, my hugging has changed somewhat. I really like to hug back even more than I used to. It's like I need it all over my skin and my center.

I miss the daddy of course... nightly, that has not changed. I also miss my sense of Independence with him. Dunkin' was bigger than I think he ever knew. My hands have not tingled this week, hurrah. I am rubbing them a lot, the muscles feel a bit tight. I do enjoy when someone rubs my hands and arms just right.

Dunkin' gave me my daily hug dose.. Without him, I am going through withdrawal and depression...with grace, I must add. The house of cards was destroyed and now I have to pick up the deck and make sense of it all again. Except key cards are always gone with Dunkin' actually really gone from my life. In the aftermath, what matters are hugs from good people, honesty with myself, and the gentle kindness that I am receiving from friends new and old and for that, I am grateful.