Not jumping

I had lost my house, my job, and my joy. It was six months after my house had burned down, it was four months since my boss called me into her office and told me that she didn't think I really wanted my job, and I didn't. I hated going into that office and I hated going home, and I hated that I moved back to San Jose and all of my friends were moving away or had gone on with their lives without me.

I thought once I came back after being away for four years it would be the same as it was, but we all grew up. People were having babies, friendships changed, and I missed four years of shared experiences. I was looking at the life I had dreamed of, but the movie had fast forwarded and I didn't fit in the story the way I thought I would. I was different too, and at this point was so sad I could not muster up the energy to invite myself to the dinner party, weekend adventures, or just over for dinner. It was not that my friends didn't love me, it's that they were getting used to me being back around and I was just trying to get out of bed every day.

So I got a dog. A little beagle puppy that I named Pollyanna Louise. She became my life. When I felt as if I could have no joy, Pollyanna would curl up and fall asleep on my back, or lick my face, or snuggle so close that I could not help but feel love.

One night I was driving around, trying to put the pieces of my life back together listening to music and crying. I drove up the 280 and over to the 85 and then up the peninsula on the 101 to the San Mateo Bridge. It was dark out and as I got closer to the bridge the calmer I got. I had made a decision. I was not scared, I was not sad, I was totally and completely numb. I pulled my car over to the side of the bridge, right at the entrance, leaving my hazard lights on to protect other drivers. I stepped up and looked at the water below, it looked cold and harsh. I started to think how I would get over the wall without anyone seeing me or trying to stop me. Time was in slow motion and I was caught between turning off the voice of reason in my head, wanting peace, and trying not to pray. I just wanted to jump. But then I thought of Polly.

Polly was a puppy. She was home in her crate wondering when I would come home. I was her only human. I knew that if I jumped my parents would take Polly but would they love her? Could they love her? She would be a constant reminder that I was gone. And so with tears and a numb heart I got back in my car, turned off my hazard lights, and went home. I found my self less numb as I fell asleep Polly snuggled up on my back. That little beagle saved my life.

I eventually found a house, a job I love, and my joy with Polly beside me the entire time. She was a wonderful hostess to house guests making sure that if they left any underwear within reach she would eat them right up. She was very cautious about making sure the oven was not on for too long with coming and finding me so I could check it. She also was the best little bed heater and snuggler a girl could ask for.

Last month Polly got very sick. First we removed a tumor on her belly and then a we found one that would eventually grow into her brain. I told her that she saved my life and I would not let her live in pain. The night that she could not sleep comfortably in my bed and chose the hard floor, I knew it was time. So I did what a loving dog mom does. I spent the day with her and at 4:00pm Beardy Face (more about him in later posts) and I went to give her peace.

As I set there holding my girl and loving on her. I knew that a piece of my heart would be missing. She brought me back from the breaking point. She is the reason I didn't jump and she was the reason I took a walk the day I knew I needed to make a serious changes in my life and chose to go to BLR. She was my angel. As the doctor came in and out of the room preparing for her departure I kissed her face and thanked her. This little dog who saved me.

It is hard not to be desperately sad. It is hard missing her every day. This house is quiet and lonely and I constantly forget that she will not be here when I come home at the end of a long day. It is hard. But I would not trade a day of loving her. The sadness of missing her is nothing compared to the despair I felt on that bridge that night seven years ago.  The sadness of missing her reminds me that she taught me how to love after everything was lost, how to take care of something when I could not take care of myself, how being loved is worth living.

Thank you Pollyanna for loving me so much that I could not jump.