Duke lives a good mile away by road, but he generally takes the short cut across farm fields, walking slowly and with a limp. Nevertheless he often ends up at our house before I leave in the morning, just in time for the food to hit the dish.
Duke is a dog, an old dog unlikely to learn new tricks. He's not our dog, but he's quite fond of our dog--fond enough to spend about half of his time at our house and to encourage Hopeful to spend about half of her time at his. When they dine at our house, Hopeful stands back and lets Duke eat first; when they dine at Duke's house, Duke defers to Hopeful.
I've never observed such a close and enduring friendship between two dogs. Near neighbors have beagles, border collies, and one particularly bossy basset, but Hopeful avoids them all, preferring to trot all the way over to Duke's place or bring Duke back to hers.
The friendship between our dogs has deepened our friendship with Duke's owners, who, fortunately, do not object to Hopeful's frequent presence. I suppose we could break up the relationship by tying both dogs up to keep them separate, but Duke seems to take great comfort from Hopeful's presence and vice versa. Why would we want to break up such a beautiful relationship? Duke feels like part of our family, and I'd hate to lose his steadfast presence. Instead, we celebrate the fact that our family has grown in an unexpected but wonderful way.
This weekend we'll experience a different kind of family growth. We have enjoyed getting to know our daughter's fiance and his amazing family, people we never would have encountered if our kids hadn't hit it off. We barely know these people but we love them dearly and look forward to seeing our family grow and stretch in unexpected ways, but this week it stretched into that "undiscovered country from whose bourn / no traveller returns."
Our daughter's future mother-in-law died this week after a long and painful battle with cancer. She was just a terrific person, full of wisdom and joy, and I have so looked forward to working on this wedding with her, but instead, we'll be attending a memorial service that will celebrate her life. Our kids brought us together, a gift for which I am grateful. Next summer the wedding will go on, but not without her, not really--she'll be there in spirit and in the wisdom and joy she has passed on to her children. She'll be there in our hearts, now grown larger because of her life.
1 comment:
So sorry to hear of her passing. you'll all be in my prayers.
Perhaps you can take some comfort in the face that when a mother dies, she lives on in her children. I look at my mother and see my beloved, dearly departed grandmother in her eyes.
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