I keep hoping — but the silence keeps growing
On missing my girl + what she taught me.
I keep hoping Maybe this is just lost time Maybe this is one of those bouts of long term psychosis — that living nightmare I used to weather and never could wake from Yes, I keep hoping Maybe this is a fugue state A really long one Maybe this is some dystopian reality of my tormented minds own making Yes maybe But then Then Tug alerts me mid afternoon and no barking rebuke follows There is no sassy commentary on how she should place her paw more perfectly on my beating chest Or then Then I take a cold shower to fully return to my body and timeline and there is no deep thwap of your tail in celebration of hygiene and survival There is no sweet neck nuzzle as I plop down on the closet floor and put on my socks Yes, I keep hoping Maybe this is just lost time Maybe this is one of those bouts of long term psychosis like I lived in my twenties But the silence keeps going The ache in my heart keeps growing And Tug and I keep hoping Minute after minute Hour after hour Day after day As we snuggle and I weep That you will come home.
~
Good Morning Beautiful Human,
I don’t have any answers for you all. All I have is my grief about my girl, sorrow about the state of this country and rage at how the world was built for this devastation in the first place.
I hate knowing that. I hate knowing that humans built a world for extraction, domination and profit. Yes, I hate knowing that so many systems — so so many were structured for the few at the top not for the well-being and thriving of us all.
As I weather this time — and as I promised my sweet best girl that I would — I have been sharing lessons that she taught me over the last eleven years. This practice of telling stories about her and brilliance is deeply healing and even though I cry all the time, they help me reconnect with hope.
Thus far, I have documented five pieces of waffle wisdom, as I’m calling them. I will link them below if you’d care to learn from her and all she taught me.
Before you click to watch them though, I do want to say this: I weep through sharing most of these stories and I’m actually really okay that I do. Sharing that pain so publicly — even though it is undoubtedly heartbreaking to feel and uncomfortable to be judged — is such a beautiful honor. It is living proof that she taught me once and for all — yes, for forever and always — that I am enough, exactly as I am and that I belong on this earth, walking beside all of you, in all my colors and all my seasons.
As we all continue to weather this terrifying and tragic time in the world, I don’t presume to know what will make it better. As always, I don’t have the answers. But I do know this. Losing our humanity would be the worst thing of all. So today and everyday, I hope you know that you deserve to feel your truth too and that you belong with me just like I belonged with my girl, in all your colors and seasons too.
I hope you are able to tread gently on yourself this weekend as you continue to show up for yourself and others.
I love you and I wish you a day.
Kindly,
Kate
Waffle Wisdom of The Week
The best way to support someone navigating mental illness, grief and pain.
( and why I’m okay crying on the internet)
How to feel hope and agency when you feel helpless and hopeless.
Gosh, how I miss you my sweet girl. And how lucky was I to have you guiding my way on this earth for a whole eleven years. I hope you know you’re still guiding me, my girl. Now, you just do it from inside my beating chest.
Wonderful dogs and kind words are the light. Shine through the tears; I am.