Lucy, our beloved Lucy, is dead.

She took her last breath Monday, just before sunrise. At midnight she coaxed her shriveled body to her favorite nap spot by the sofa. She crumpled down, curled up, and slowly took her leave, one soft breath at a time until her breath was all gone, returned to its giver.

(Where does breath come from? Where does it go?)

Lucy was one of Orphan Annie’s 14 Labrador pups born in 2010. She claimed us. We brought her home. She lit up our lives. Monday that light went out. 

I wept. And will weep again when morning comes and I walk our nature trail alone. 

Paula wept. And will weep again when evening comes and there’s no one to fetch the squeaky ball, or pant for a biscuit, or sit for a brushing.

We walked, romped, and snuggled with Lucy for 12 years. Now she’s gone. And with her a piece of our hearts.

Dogs?!! Whose idea was that?

I know, I know. It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But sometimes I wonder. Love?!! Who can afford that? How many times can our hearts be broken?

I don’t know, but I can guess that some of you are also living with a broken heart, sick with grief. Will this grief—mine and yours—ever end?

Yes.

Yes, it will.

And it does.

I know it does.

You don’t have to believe it will end. It just does. Faith is not required. Patience is. Consolation is a gift. You can’t earn it. You can’t conjure it. It’s given, given like breath, given like the seasons.

The sun rises. Seasons return. Leaves turn. Birds sing. Children dance. Laughter roars. Night falls. Stars shine. Dogs howl. The sun rises.

Mourning breaks.

Lucy filled our lives with immeasurable joy. A long, long season of delight. And now comes the season of grief.

Yes, life is hard, sometimes very, very hard.

But grace abounds.

And dogs rock.