Bode

My sweet boy, my Bode Bear.

I sit here on the living room floor, where we shared our last moment together. My rug is printed with different colors and shapes, but all I can see is you.

I know you were confused when the doctor walked through the front door into our home, but you were so brave, bud. I saw the trust in your eyes when you looked at me - mom will always protect you. I didn’t want to let you go, but I knew the pain you were feeling, and the pain that was soon to come.

I didn’t see this coming, bud. Life was starting to finally make sense. I thought we had more time left together.

Time - we humans always think there is more of it. We live our lives focused on it, day by day. But time didn’t exist on the last day we had together.

We started the day with a nice, big, juicy steak, and chicken nuggets. We sat at two of your favorite parks with a pup cup. We watched the ducks swimming in the pond. As we stood up from the grass hill and walked toward the car, the ducklings started diving into the water and jumping back out, over and over - following us, then swimming back to their mother the moment we reached the car. I’ve never seen anything like it. Almost as if they knew you were on your way home.

Home to your sweet sister, Stevie Nix.

Someone told me that day that I wasn’t putting you down, but sending you up. I like to think of it that way. Someone also told me that my higher self was waiting for you at the rainbow bridge - that you’re never alone.

Oh, my sweet boy, how I will miss you. I miss you.

You were born on September 20, 2018 - the day before I lost my brother, your uncle, Braden. While I was about to lose one of the most important people in my life, you were just entering it.

I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. You stayed close through it all - through the days I couldn’t find my footing, through the versions of me that were harder to love - until my life-altering accident in 2023. What I feel now is a paradox of grief and gratitude - gratitude because I got to spend night and day with you these past two and a half years. My God gave me that, and I will praise Him the rest of my days for that gift.

Bode, you showed up for me for eight years - but mom’s okay now. I'm learning how to take care of myself. You can rest. You can play. You can have all the tennis balls and all the chicken. You somehow always found a ball on our neighborhood walks. I imagine you never run out, wherever you are.

I filled your backpack with everything you’d need to get to the rainbow bridge, and a couple of Stevie’s things to guide you to her. Maybe you gave them to her when you found her.

Thank you for being the best big brother to her when we rescued her. I know you weren’t down at first, but watching the bond that formed between you was beautiful.

The wind blew the doggy door open this morning. I’m choosing to believe that was you and her, stopping by to say hello.

I will see you again, bud. Please come visit me when you can - I’ll be looking for you.

You have left a print on my heart, Bode Bear.

I don't know how to do life without you. The house is hauntingly quiet now, a silence that doesn't feel real yet. The timing of your passing has left me utterly confused and devastated, but I believe that one day I will understand the purpose behind this pain.

I love you, Bode. You are so loved. I know your tribe - Stevie Nix, Smokey Bear, Kaia, Comet, Braden, and so many others - welcomed you with open arms.

See you on Tuesday, bud.