Moments from my Latter Days
I outlived our dog. That may seem logical in the normal cycles of life. Putting our faithful canine “to sleep” was a heart-wrenching event, as any dog-lover will attest. For me, it was one of those moments that brings your life into sharp focus. Like when the medical tests for the “heart-attack” I had revealed that it was really indigestion, or when I recovered my senses after a car-totaling accident. It made me grateful for the gift of my life.
“Sandy,” our golden retriever puppy, came into our lives the same summer I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was a traumatic time. My husband and I wanted to keep our life as “normal” as possible while we went through this challenge. So we kept to our promise to the children of getting a puppy, even though it was the farthest thing from our minds.
Back then, I remember asking God to heal me outright, and if he didn’t do that, to please give me the grace to bravely bear my cross. Suddenly seeing my life in sharp focus brought certain wisdom in varying degrees. On the positive side: I learned to truly live in the moment. Conversely, well, there’s nothing like a cancer crisis to give a screaming voice to my deepest fears. Even with my hope set on Christ I confess I still had my worries: “Lord, I hope I outlive the dog.”
I don’t remember much about puppydom. I was sidetracked by a series of surgeries, survival statistics and support groups. Somehow we managed to train our dog, and to tame our wild medical world all at the same time. Sandy was good medicine, a happy distraction, and a new loving presence amidst the family and friends who carried us during those trying months.
In the year Sandy moved in, my cancer moved out. She and I started counting birthdays together. Each summer when her birthday came around, my “anniversary” of my cancer fight came around. I saw my survivorship as a new start on my life, and so I would say “happy birthday” to me on that anniversary day, starting with year one. So when Sandy turned one, I turned “one.” When she was two, I was two and so on.
Emerging from that Job-like period, I better understood the scripture that read: “And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning…”Job 42:12 RSV.
I didn’t just count my dog’s birthdays, but everyone’s! They were holy moments and milestones. Sacraments like “First Communion” and Confirmation were huge celebrations. Wedding anniversaries had deep and powerful meanings. While these dates are circled on my calendar, there were many moments that have no calendar remembrance. They are part of the bright constellation of moments that God has blessed me with in my latter days…
…Like the morning my blond cherub learned to “pump” on his own on the swings…that sunny afternoon my daughter wore a white dress for the “May Crowning…” Cheering my little leaguer’s pitching and witnessing his line drive all the way to the wall… Watching our big dog “walk” my little guy around our property... Camping-- five of us plus pooch in a tent... My son’s first piano recital... Watching my daughter’s tap class jitters fade into precision movements… Choking up when my husband had my broken engagement ring replaced and got down on one knee to propose again—in front of the kids! …My first prayer at the shrine in Fatima... Buying my son his first razor... Taking second place in a Scrabble tournament... Fitting my daughter in her first formal gown… Applauding my youngest boy’s “bridging” from cub to Boy Scout… Throwing snowballs in July-- in the Colorado Rockies... …Hosting a clambake in our backyard... Being splashed by a whale at Sea World… Savoring sunset at Cadillac Mountain in Acadia... Watching bison graze at Yellowstone… Hugging my husband at the rim of the Grand Canyon… Swimming with a sandy Sandy in the ocean... Renting a Porsche for the weekend… Taking pictures of Big Ben… Soaking in a Monet exhibition with no interruptions... Standing in St. Peter’s Square waiting to see Pope John Paul II… Praying at the tomb of St. Francis of Assisi… Eating cheesecake in New York City with my girlfriends… Playing Monopoly on the back porch all day... Buying newborn gifts for 12 nephews and nieces... Attending my son’s first Mass as an altar server... Giving my daughter her first manicure… Singing “The Messiah” next to my favorite soprano… Sitting in the back seat while my son takes his driving test… Standing at the top of a mountain run, looking down on my first set of skis… Sitting for my first exam in graduate school—after a 20-year hiatus! …Posing for pictures before my son’s prom… Watching the Red Sox win the World Series... Listening to my daughter’s aspiration to run in the school election, and hearing the winning results... Snorkeling a coral reef… Experiencing my own children being Godparents for a baby cousin… Visiting a distant college with my oldest... Watching the sunrise at the beach on Easter morning… Sailing into the wind.
Sandy reached 8 ½ when I brought her to the vet because of a limp. She was diagnosed with cancer. It was (ugh!) a moment. After the initial sadness, I realized through my dying pet, that God meant her life to be an encouragement for mine. I am grateful for all her happy doggy days, and even more profoundly aware of the life and times and moments of my own.
I am 9 this summer. Our new puppy just stole my sock.
©2005 Patricia W. Gohn
This article appeared previously in CatholicMom.com
“Sandy,” our golden retriever puppy, came into our lives the same summer I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was a traumatic time. My husband and I wanted to keep our life as “normal” as possible while we went through this challenge. So we kept to our promise to the children of getting a puppy, even though it was the farthest thing from our minds.
Back then, I remember asking God to heal me outright, and if he didn’t do that, to please give me the grace to bravely bear my cross. Suddenly seeing my life in sharp focus brought certain wisdom in varying degrees. On the positive side: I learned to truly live in the moment. Conversely, well, there’s nothing like a cancer crisis to give a screaming voice to my deepest fears. Even with my hope set on Christ I confess I still had my worries: “Lord, I hope I outlive the dog.”
I don’t remember much about puppydom. I was sidetracked by a series of surgeries, survival statistics and support groups. Somehow we managed to train our dog, and to tame our wild medical world all at the same time. Sandy was good medicine, a happy distraction, and a new loving presence amidst the family and friends who carried us during those trying months.
In the year Sandy moved in, my cancer moved out. She and I started counting birthdays together. Each summer when her birthday came around, my “anniversary” of my cancer fight came around. I saw my survivorship as a new start on my life, and so I would say “happy birthday” to me on that anniversary day, starting with year one. So when Sandy turned one, I turned “one.” When she was two, I was two and so on.
Emerging from that Job-like period, I better understood the scripture that read: “And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning…”Job 42:12 RSV.
I didn’t just count my dog’s birthdays, but everyone’s! They were holy moments and milestones. Sacraments like “First Communion” and Confirmation were huge celebrations. Wedding anniversaries had deep and powerful meanings. While these dates are circled on my calendar, there were many moments that have no calendar remembrance. They are part of the bright constellation of moments that God has blessed me with in my latter days…
…Like the morning my blond cherub learned to “pump” on his own on the swings…that sunny afternoon my daughter wore a white dress for the “May Crowning…” Cheering my little leaguer’s pitching and witnessing his line drive all the way to the wall… Watching our big dog “walk” my little guy around our property... Camping-- five of us plus pooch in a tent... My son’s first piano recital... Watching my daughter’s tap class jitters fade into precision movements… Choking up when my husband had my broken engagement ring replaced and got down on one knee to propose again—in front of the kids! …My first prayer at the shrine in Fatima... Buying my son his first razor... Taking second place in a Scrabble tournament... Fitting my daughter in her first formal gown… Applauding my youngest boy’s “bridging” from cub to Boy Scout… Throwing snowballs in July-- in the Colorado Rockies... …Hosting a clambake in our backyard... Being splashed by a whale at Sea World… Savoring sunset at Cadillac Mountain in Acadia... Watching bison graze at Yellowstone… Hugging my husband at the rim of the Grand Canyon… Swimming with a sandy Sandy in the ocean... Renting a Porsche for the weekend… Taking pictures of Big Ben… Soaking in a Monet exhibition with no interruptions... Standing in St. Peter’s Square waiting to see Pope John Paul II… Praying at the tomb of St. Francis of Assisi… Eating cheesecake in New York City with my girlfriends… Playing Monopoly on the back porch all day... Buying newborn gifts for 12 nephews and nieces... Attending my son’s first Mass as an altar server... Giving my daughter her first manicure… Singing “The Messiah” next to my favorite soprano… Sitting in the back seat while my son takes his driving test… Standing at the top of a mountain run, looking down on my first set of skis… Sitting for my first exam in graduate school—after a 20-year hiatus! …Posing for pictures before my son’s prom… Watching the Red Sox win the World Series... Listening to my daughter’s aspiration to run in the school election, and hearing the winning results... Snorkeling a coral reef… Experiencing my own children being Godparents for a baby cousin… Visiting a distant college with my oldest... Watching the sunrise at the beach on Easter morning… Sailing into the wind.
Sandy reached 8 ½ when I brought her to the vet because of a limp. She was diagnosed with cancer. It was (ugh!) a moment. After the initial sadness, I realized through my dying pet, that God meant her life to be an encouragement for mine. I am grateful for all her happy doggy days, and even more profoundly aware of the life and times and moments of my own.
I am 9 this summer. Our new puppy just stole my sock.
©2005 Patricia W. Gohn
This article appeared previously in CatholicMom.com
posted by Pat Gohn at
10:15 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home