When you are given a chance, take it!

I will be honest, this isn't easy. I haven't talked much about Bridger since he passed away. Bridger, my Chocolate Lab, was more than a dog. He was a confidante, an alarm system, a kitchen sweeper (tail & tongue), a hiking buddy, a date detector (is a guy good enough or not?), and a great traveling friend. 

As for CONS...
He didn't care too much for poetry or... Sex and the City episodes. Whenever the show's opening music started, Bridger shuffled off the couch or got up off the hardwood floor. It's like he knew it was his time to go to the bedroom or his pet cave/man cave, the basement. Girl SHOW! I'm outta here. I even watched "chick flicks" in his presence but that one show always seemed to be just a bit too much for his delicate canine senses. HA!

Back to his favorites: Bridger loved Christmas!

Fa-la-la-WOOF!

That boy sniffed a present before you opened it. "For me?" If it was for him, his tail shook wildly hopefully not near the tree full of ornaments or cups of coffee on the table. For those who don't know a Lab tail, it is swift, thick, fast, and can clear coffee tables in a single swoop, flip a collection of graduate school books from a temporary nesting spot, and much more -- as you will see. His tail actually did catch fire once -just once- early on as a young pup. He didn't even yelp! Good boy! He got his tail in the flame of one of my big jar candles. I was busy with something else and saw smoke... Smoke coming from his tail.
"Oh no," I thought.
I quickly patted him with the nearest towel.
Emergency averted. 
Lab pup smiling.  As if nothing ever happened. 
Tail still right next to pumpkin candle.
I moved the candle. Happy dog mom and safe pup!

For so long that is how
 I remember him: my boy! 

Even now a year and some months later with a new pup in my life-I adore my King Charles Cav-there is still a lab-shaped hole in my life. I still cry on occasion. I'm the type of person who sleeps with her dogs, doesn't count the dog hairs-probably a MAJOR fashion faux-paw (lol)- and even on occasion gets a peck on the lips. OK, a lot of kisses! I love my dogs. I considered Bridger my son. I just called him my "boy" above. I still do. He will forever be my boy! I had wonderful memories with him. He had a rebellious, protective nature that got him into a few problematic situations over the years but overall he was a GOOD BOY. His biggest crime: being a momma's boy! 

I'm telling you all this because the other day my mom and I were in our neighborhood coming back from one of my doctor appointments (imagine that!). It has plenty of walking paths, so people often jog, speed-walk, and go for strolls with their dogs. We see all kinds of breeds from short and fluffy to long and lean. Mix breed to any regal blend you desire.Dogs too. Ha! It is always interesting to ride home around 4-7 p.m. this time of year. It's a pet magazine on display! 
So the other day we are turning into our subdivision and mom and I are talking about the doctor visit. Mom slows the car down and says suddenly, "Don't look." But I already see IT. Lately, it has been so hard to look at any kind of Chocolate Lab hence the big message, "Don't look!" Even this many months later into my grief cycle, I'd just rather not see 'em. I know for some people it sounds crazy or ridiculous but it is what I have to do to make it through. As we get closer to the pair, I see it is definitely what I thought. 

"Oh boy," I think. Memories start clicking in my mind. Polaroids of the past come flooding back: hiking in the Idaho mountains, hogging the tent, playing with mom's dogs, enjoying our own walks in the neighborhood and the adventures we found ourselves in. 
Mom slows down to make the corner toward home.
I make an unexpected statement -- even for me.
"I want to go meet him."
"He sounds great."
Mom thinks I am referring to the surgeon the podiatrist offered as a possible option in town.
"No, Mom. The dog. Right now."
I know I probably sound like a child in that moment but I don't care. 
It was about getting outside of my comfort zone. It was about meeting one of Bridger's kin --another Chocolate Lab. 
I was ready. In think I was ready.
Mom turned the car around without question and drove down another street to catch up with the dog and his walker/owner.
The worry crept in. My worry about what someone else my think.
"This is too crazy, right? Petting someone's dog out of nowhere?"
"No. Go ahead," she says pulling up the pair. "I've already turned around."
I thought about Bridger and getting to connect to a Chocolate Lab again. Plus, the dog looked eerily like him.  
I'm doing it. 
Right NOW.

The window goes down. Somehow words roll out.
"Hi, my dog passed away about a year ago and he looks just like yours. Would you mind if I pet him?" 
"Sure," the owner says.
By this time I am out of the car, tears are forming. I can truly see just how close the two dogs are: rich, velvety brown eyes; broad, thick body, and a tail that could easily clean a coffee table. 
I immediately start to sob. 
Oh no.
"His name is Harley. He loves meeting folks, don't ya buddy? "
I tell Harley hello between sobs. Barely. I touch his head and back and realize it is like touching Bridger's smooth, almost silky coat. I quickly tell the guy thank you and how much it means to me. I get back in the car and the guy jogs off with Harley, the Chocolate Lab.

I just knew Bridger's spirit was alive in those few minutes. Petting this dog allowed me to remember different details with Bridger and I was able to connect AGAIN. It was a bittersweet. At the same time, priceless. Those few moments were like a rare jewel, a drink of an exotic flavor, or the conversation you've been waiting to hear. It puts moments on a pedestal. Little moments are indeed special. Don't ignore them as insignificant. A series of little moments might put you on the path to something rather LARGE.

I mentioned earlier that I worried before meeting the guy what he might think of my request. Life is one shot. Too short, my friend! It's like that one Pinterest poster that says Life happens outside your comfort zone. That made me nervous yet I wanted to do it and I did.

SMILE BIG... RIGHT THROUGH THE TEARS
To go home, we had to do a U-turn and I saw Harley and his owner again. I waved and smiled big. Right through the tears. It was a small moment with a big reward. 

Isn't that what life is all about? 

These are the memories we keep.

Bridger
2001-2012

 ©The Healing Redhead

Starbucks, car radios, and country music

"To me, a song is more than just something to sing. It's something to learn from. It's somebody else's true feeling. I'm always trying to get at the meaning. ...When I write a line, I'm doing the same thing. I'm looking at it from the perspective of if I was driving down the road listening to it, 'What am I gonna get out of it?'" --Clint Black, country crooner

I was eager to get to Starbucks... I believe it was the Saturday after Christmas and I had not had the privilege of getting a coffee drink over the holidays this year. My lovely Aunt Jamie got me a Starbucks basket* with several cards tucked inside. So I decided I wanted to get out of the house for awhile and treat myself to a red cup, a Starbucks signature holiday drink.

Delicious! How I love coffee!

( When you see * go to bottom of blog to read more)

I sipped a 12 oz. white chocolate mocha -- ahh, the creamy decadence -- in my comfy red Subaru* as my Mom picked up a take-and-bake pizza at the shopping center nearby. I watched vehicles of all makes and models move about the parking lot. I often wonder the stories and backgrounds of each person coming and going. Being a storyteller myself, it passes the time to come up with a few scenarios for the person behind this Chevy Tahoe, that Dodge Caravan, or that Ford Mustang and is especially fun in a busy parking lot like this one next to Starbucks, a liquor store, Hastings, and a large grocery store like H-E-B, a Texas staple. This particular area of Bryan - the town next door to College Station - is always busy -- no matter day or night... At least when I've been here but that has been late afternoon or early evening, a prime time for getting DVDs, Jose for drinks later, or the Honey-do grocery list for the guys on the way home from work. 

As I'm watching this guy and that, the inside of the Subaru is quiet. Well, except for the occasional slurp from yours truly. I'm not a big radio fan.  Confession: I don't listen to top-anything. Yeah, I'm not cool -- at least in that arena. Ha!  I still keep up with what's up, though, via entertainment news. Although I do need some new tunes for my workout list. I need all the help I can get to get off the couch. Send me some tunes or write suggestions below in Comments!*  Love to hear from you!

There was a time I listened to country music in the '80s and early '90s on the radio and I knew everybody. I lived in Texas a lot of that time. A Better Man ~ She's in Love With the Boy ~ Here's a Quarter, Call Someone Who Cares ~ 18 Wheels & A Dozen Roses ~  and more... Get this, I could even tell you the artist and the song in the first 5-10 seconds. Trivial pursuit never has THAT category, dammit! Or as my Dad would say, dadgummit! #gameshow #hereicome 

Something, though, that Saturday while sipping my delicious mocha made me turn that radio on... I adjusted the station because it was scratchy and out of tune. At first it was the DJ maybe or maybe the sweet voice carried through straight away across the airwaves, across the decades, the country classic, "Daddy's Hands." *  

I got tingles. 

Not my NF tingles. 

Regular tingles, similar to goose bumps. 

Maybe it was goose bumps.  

I had not heard THAT SONG since the last time I lived in Texas or maybe longer. We are talking YEARS! I will admit I forgot who sang it at that very moment I was listening, leaning back, listening to every word. 

I felt like no one else was there, like no one else was in the world but me and this song: 

I remember daddy's hands folded silently in prayer 

And reachin' out to hold me, when I had a nightmare

You could read quite a story in the callous' and lines

Years of work and worry had left their mark behind

I remember daddy's hands how they held my mama tight

And patted my back for something done right

There are things that I'd forgotten that I loved about the man

But I'll always remember the love in daddy's hands

~CHORUS~

Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'

Daddy's hands were hard as steel when I'd done wrong

Daddy's hands weren't always gentle but I've come to understand

There was always love in daddy's hands.

I remember daddy's hands workin' 'til they bled

Sacrificed unselfishly just to keep us all fed

If I could do things over, I'd live my life again

And never take for granted the love in daddy's hands

Repeat CHORUS

Repeat CHORUS

--Daddy's Hands

Holly Dunn is the saint behind this song. She sang it back in the late '80s. A preacher's daughter, Dunn wrote these words, so familiar, so resonant. It speaks so well to the depth of a father-daughter relationship.   

I lost my Dad to cancer related to Neurofibromatosis. He was 51. Listening to this song, I had been thinking about my Dad's birthday - Jan. 12 - and just got through another Christmas without him. A good childhood friend wrote on Facebook she just lost her father after Christmas. Hearing these words on the radio soothed me and just seemed so right, so fitting. I was stunned by the timing of it all. I wanted my friend to hear the song, too. She grew up on a ranch in the idyllic Texas Hill Country. We met in Comfort,TX  - Hard to believe, right?- and remained friends ever since via stamped letters, e-mails, Christmas cards, and Facebook chats. 

More than a decade out, a decade of holidays, a decade of anniversaries, and a decade of birthdays it is still not easy. It never will get easy. Losing a parent. Losing a dad. Even typing it isn't easy.  

Doing my signature "Bulldog" face :) --
Easter Sunday in Arlington, TX

In my case it's been people, nature and even animals, often my pets, that I've surrounded myself with have cushioned the rough spots and helped me sleep better at night and brought sunshine to dark days.

"If you're feeling low, don't despair. The sun has a sinking spell every night, but it comes back up every morning." --Dolly Parton 

Songs provide a balm at times (like above) and other times in sudden moments I find myself in mere seconds sobbing in quick need of a tissue like the time in downtown Seattle when a street musician started to play a song I heard a lot during my childhood and it reminded me of Dad. I can't recall the tune right now. I wish I could. 

There were times in Lewiston where I lived in high school and college and I thought I heard my Dad's Ford pick-up nearby or coming up to the garage. It has happened one to two times here in College Station. Our house was next to a large gravel lot and alley in Idaho. I could always hear the acceleration, gears shifting, the tires across rough pavement, rumbling across the gravel. He's finally home, I thought... But he isn't. It's such a visceral experience. Like a dream, you wake up, shattered, flattened even, by the realness of your life.

I know the rhythm of my Dad's Ford pick-up coming home is something I will never forget; it's like how I know my name, a friend's name, an unforgettable song, or a quiet, lilting hymn. It meant a homecoming. Meeting him through the double doors with his backpack still on... 

There was always love in daddy's hands.

I am just so glad my friend was able to send one last Christmas with her father. She has a wonderful husband & two beautiful daughters. They all spent one last holiday together. That is a lasting memory she will carry with her... Forever.

I am thinking of my friend often! The best we can do is check in with friends without being a nuisance (Ha!) and let them know we are thinking of them during a time of sadness, sympathy, grief. 

Ideas... instead of the classic casserole, 

think of sending:

-A blanket and a good book (unrelated to grief unless they ask for one*) 

-DVD of his/her favorite shows: 30Rock, Madmen, Season 1 Gilmore Girls, Magnum PI, etc.

-My auntie's idea: Starbucks basket (inexpensive basket, fill with construction paper or tissue paper, cute mug that looks like "her" or "him" and some 'bucks cards. Or just the cards in a sweet 'thinking of you' card.

-Dinner delivery -- So many places deliver now, just get a card from their favorite place so they can dial in a meal. 

-Depending on how well you know each other, How about new PJs? Everyone loves new PJs or get a gift card with a nudge to get that instead of kid stuff or husband stuff*

-A friend did this for me and I adored it: A pedicure w/ the works! She got a certificate for me to my favorite local salon... How sweet is that? Plus, she lives in a different state! 

-A special greeting card and don't just sign your name. Write a little something. 

I made it through my Dad's birthday. It has been harder living in Texas than Idaho. I feel the grief more. I feel less connected to him because I'm not near trees, mountains, and animals. It is hard to say but part of me feels as though I betrayed him because I moved here. Although, deep down I know that's not true. I just wish I felt the same connection I felt in Idaho. It's different somehow. 

Time has passed too. 

If I could do things over, I'd live my life again 

And never take for granted the love in daddy's hands

 ©The Healing Redhead

*Let's just say I squealed with delight when I got THIS Christmas present! My cousin also added another card to the bunch! So I was ready to go! Drink it up! 

*I apologize for all the product placement! I do love my Starbucks & my I even named my car. That's a whole other blog post or... Couch time w/ a psychiatrist... (wink!) 

*Send me your suggestions at: lesliee30@gmail.com 

*Holly Dunn Web Page

*One book that helped me during my time of grief was  "When Bad Things to Good People" by Harold Kushner. Yet laughs, a mystery/suspense or a good romance might be a great way to lighten the mood... At least for awhile. All depends on the person. It is always the thought that counts!

*If someone is, in fact, grieving it's important to spend a little "you-time" right now. No one should make you feel guilty for it. Kid stuff is important, of course, but one cute PJ set caught on sale shouldn't bust the budget! Feeling comfy/cozy is important. 

Lyrics: www.elyrics.net