I like to believe
that I have come to embody the notion
of change being the only constant
we can depend upon in this world.
As much as I, at times, resist change,
I like to believe that I have come to appreciate,
and understand, and welcome it.

And yet,
it feels near impossible to accept
how life
can change in an instant –
not just in theory, but in reality.

A few days away
was all we had asked, and hoped, for –
to escape to a different landscape,
reconnect in a change of scenery
and regroup,
for what we envisioned lay ahead of us.
One phone call came,
the vibration of which we barely heard,
and everything changed.

I could count it in days – 2 –
or hours – 50 –
between hearing the news of,
‘something doesn’t seem right’,
to when we were at the veterinary clinic,
taking away his pain forever
and saying our final goodbye.

I never knew my body to be capable
of breaking, of shattering,
of collapsing in such intense grief and pain,
the way she did that day
and yet, remaining here, to carry on.

I cried until my body became dehydrated.
My body caved in on itself to protect the gaping holes
left behind.
I talked through my feelings,
reminisced on stories and photos,
and mourned the opportunities lost.
After a while,
I tried to carry on,
thinking of what he would want for me,
but change is the constant
and I’m brought back down to the couch,
to rest and recuperate and heal my run-down body
despite my best efforts to keep going.

Eventually,
what you are running from will catch up with you.
Life will force you to stop,
sniff the smells on stop signs and bushes,
tail wagging,
and remember how important it is
to savor each moment.

We will never have ‘enough’ time,
so we need to make the time count
while we have it.