The Beach — Summer
I brought Dean to one of your favorite places today—the beach. When I look out at the water, I can practically see you, splashing and having the time of your life, just like you always did when we came out here. Then, when you had your fill, we’d lie under the umbrella and just hang out.
Dean’s awesome. He’s not quite as chill as you, though. I don’t think most babies are.
I wish you could have met him, Abbie. He was born just after you passed. Still, I’m so grateful for the time we spent together. I wouldn’t change a single second.
You know, it’s easy to make connections with humans, because we can talk to each other. Find common ground. Share interests.
Too bad I hate talking.
Which is probably why I had a better relationship with you than I do with most people. With you, I could just be. We didn’t need each other to say anything. Honestly, we could communicate without ever saying a word. In the fourteen years we had together, I learned so much from you.
You taught me how to love.
I know that sounds crazy, but when I was pregnant with Dean, all my emotions were running so high. I just had anxiety over what kind of parent I was gonna be. What were my goals for bringing this little human into the world? And I remember having this moment of absolute clarity when I thought: I want to love how Abbie did.
Which is unconditionally.
I love my husband. You know I do. But I feel like, with you, even when I was pissy, you’d still run to me, wagging your tail, excited to see me. It doesn’t work that way with husbands, unfortunately. They are not that happy to see you when you’re pissy.
It’s that unconditional, unwavering love that made me connect to you so much. When I was younger, I didn’t always have the best of everything… but I had my dog.
You loved me through all my stages and phases—through my dorky middle school years and my first teenage heartbreak. Through juggling college and jobs and later, getting married and starting a family.
That was the hardest thing when you died. I didn’t have you to share these experiences with anymore.
I’ve lost loved ones before, but losing you hit different. You were never just a dog. You were my best friend. My travel buddy. My twin flame. Everyone has a soul connection; mine just happened to be in dog form.
I’ve always been spiritual. When someone passes, I want to keep a piece of them close. Mom knows this, just like she knows how important you are to me. When she gave me the box and told me she was gifting me a diamond made from your ashes, I just about shit my pants. Seriously though, Abbie, it’s going to be the coolest thing ever—always having a piece of you with me.
I wasn’t expecting the process to be so in-depth. It’s truly a phenomenal experience to be able to see with my own eyes how your diamond is being made. It helps with the grief. To be able to pay tribute to you and take part in the whole journey is so special.
The diamond I’m growing for you is colorless—simple and timeless, because I’m going to wear it forever. I’ll have it set as a ring, and I’ll never take it off. Being able to move forward with you in this beautiful way makes a world of difference. I’m not leaving you behind. I could never do that to you, Abbie Girl. Not after all we’ve been through or after all you taught me, which is to love unconditionally, to be comfortable with silence, and, above all, how to be a friend.
I miss you and I love you.
Your very best friend,
Elizabeth
