One Year Later

The memory of Gizmo’s death has become fragmented and is lodged in my brain like many pieces of jagged glass. At any given moment a blinding spotlight could hit one of those images taking me back in time.

Every day since Gizmo died I see his face. His alive face full of fun and I can feel my heart breaking all over again. How do I let him go?

There are many wonderful sayings such as: when a dog dies he takes a piece of your heart and with the arrival of another dog it gives you a new piece of heart. There must be something wrong with my heart because it no longer fits back together correctly. The pieces are all too small and shriveled. They are too open and bleeding. They don’t belong together anymore.

Everyday life goes on with work, farm, beach, friends and family, but there is a piece of me that weeps for my little dude.

Sometimes it’s right as I fall asleep at night that I see his face and have dreams we’re playing on the bed. He chases my hand with his mouth open and his eyes bright. Just like morning he died. I scooped him up and snuggled him as we walked down the stairs (Gizmo could only go up the stairs) and I’d tell him what an amazing boy he has become and how much he’s loved.

There is a huge hole in my armor. There is a fissure that reaches deep into my soul that has more than softened me, it has broken me and after a year I still can’t manage to put myself back together again.

I fear my grief is preventing Gizmo from moving forward into whatever is waiting for him, so I must let him go. I love him so much and more than anything I dream of his happiness. He will always have a special place in my heart and my mind, but his soul must be free to fly.


Forever loved. Forever remembered.


June 2007-Aug 2011 

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