This won’t be eloquently written. I’m void of eloquence right now, along with any emotion other than despair. Last night I lost my son. Not my pet. Not my dog. My son. His name is Ben.
I want to briefly describe him, but know my words will fall short of expressing what an angel he was.
Ben was a terrier mix. He was the rock of my family, and has always been there for all of us. When my husband suffered a stroke, his name was the first word he was able to say, and I’ll never forget Ben barely eating until his dad came home from the hospital. Whenever either of his two sisters or brother, Cooper, whom we lost earlier this summer (all fur babies) felt sick, or yelped while briefly hurting themselves, he was the first one to make sure they were okay. And how he worried about me all the time, keeping me in his sight if I wasn’t feeling well.
He was the best friend anyone could hope for, and I’m unable to express how fortunate I was to have had him by my side for 14 years. I’m not a religious person, but I do know in my heart that if there is a heaven, he is certainly there, and that his brother Cooper is showing him the ropes.
I plan on talking to him every day. My heart will hurt as it does now for the rest of my life, and I guess it’s time to work on becoming the best person I can be so that if heaven exists, I’ll be welcomed as well and will be back with my little love, my best friend, my Ben.
