Senna Dog passed at 10:30 last night.  I felt his passing, felt him come to calm and release.  His sweet, gentle spirit carried me with him into the light.

Facetime allowed me to see the body he left behind.  He passed in his home with his human parents right there.  He only suffered a short time.  

Now this morning, I feel the weight of grief, the weight of loss.  I woke from a dream where a child and I were underwater struggling not to drown.  I was trying to save her, but then there was a release and she floated gently down as I floated up.

I feel like all the cliches, like I’ve been hit by a truck and am lying under a pile of bricks.

Slowly I go, and once again, I round myself, circle around the fire I am, and the circles we are, and console on the words of John Squadra:

When you love, you complete a circle. When you die, the circle remains. 

Senna loved.  He loved with every fiber of his being, and when he saw me or others, he bounced and danced which is no small thing when you have long, slender greyhound legs.  He reminded me of my Grandmother who laughed with her whole being, like a child. Though she’d been through the loss of her husband during the depression leaving her with three young children, and though her son went off to pilot a B-17 in WWII, and shot down, was imprisoned in a POW camp so she didn’t know if he was dead or alive, she still kept her ability to laugh with her whole being.

Grief carves us out like a tree made into a canoe, so we can hold more joy, and rather than rooted, float downstream, making our way to the sea.

Right now love circles in my heart, a beacon, heavy with light and the weight of grief.

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