Hello, bloggy reader friends. How have you been? Honestly…the past couple of weeks have been ridiculously sad around here due to the passing of Jolie. Saying goodbye to her was brutal, but it is slowly getting better with each passing day. Jared, Pugsley, Wednesday and I are all beginning to adjust to our “new normal.”
The first few days I found myself dissolving into a series of ugly cries that would rival some of Kim Kardashian's best work. Sometimes we found ourselves crying over things that would seem innocuous. From picking up dog poop to finding her bag of Hip & Joint dog treats.
Less dog poop should be considered a perk, right? RIGHT?! Let's be real. I'd pick up her dog poop forever if it meant that she could always be with me.
And then there have been the situations that I would expect to bring a gush of tears. Cards and emails from our vets and dog walking service released the hounds from my tear ducts (pun intended). But it was the call from the Pet Loss Center letting me know that Jolie's ashes were available for pick-up that required me to pull over my car. The voice that came across my Bluetooth was empathetic as I did my best to choke out words that resembled “Thank you for letting me know.”
There is nothing that represents the finality of life than a beautiful box with “Jolie” engraved on a nameplate.
I really, really miss my girl. Gah.
Comfort has been found where expected – Jared, the puppies, friends, and family. But it's also been found via trashy television. Has anyone seen VH-1's Rock of Love series featuring Bret Michaels from ten years ago? It's horrific and entertaining. Thank you, Amazon Prime, for providing me with access to that vintage dumpster fire.
I'm serious. I need more Rock of Love in my life. I'm looking at you, VH1.
What do you do during times of grief or extreme sadness? What brings you comfort? Why do noses have to get involved in the crying process?
Work Hard. Play Hard. Drink Sparkling Water When You've Had Enough Chard.
P.S. I am sorry for the references to poop. In my defense, I am still pretty broken up. And the poop emoji IS my favorite.
P.P.S. I promise lighter fare next time around. I really thought this post was going to have more frothy elements to it, but apparently, my psyche and fingertips have a mind of their own. Jerks.