For Priscilla

There is a hole in my heart. It is a real as any affliction. I can feel the absence there in the same way a veteran of war would feel […]

There is a hole in my heart. It is a real as any affliction. I can feel the absence there in the same way a veteran of war would feel the memory of a limb long removed. The feeling and function there once so obviously alive is now numbed and ghostly.
There are spaces in my house where only shadows remain. I can see impressions upon everything within it that glaringly show the absence of a long time presence, now gone. Everywhere are footprints left behind that are so deep they do not seem to go away.
There are visions in my mind’s eye so real it seems as though they just occurred only moments ago. Like cinematic reels that play the pieces of the past. From the smallest unassuming beginnings…to the very end. In the feature there was only one actor. A player who performed their part so eloquently and genuinely that we are left wanting at the end of the story. 
Where there once were sounds there are only echoes of memories and then a deafening quiet. For countless hours I wished only for peaceful silence, and now that there is quiet I am captured by the stillness of that wish. A stillness so deep that I am alone. I am alone with the chorus of the memories within my ears.
Who knows what comfort another life brings until tit is gone? No one truly knows. That is the great flaw of our humanity… we simply cannot image the spaces that are filled by those around us. We are blind to the wholeness of ourselves until that wholeness is stripped away. We are left with only the great gaping holes in our hearts, and the forever silent impressions of shadows remain.
We are left only with our memories, and the memories of memories, and someday those too will fade. It must be our resolve to remember. It must be our joy to carry that hole within our hearts like heroes of past battles carry their scars. So we can all remember and be proud to have shared a small part of what was once there.

I will miss my little girl. The little puppy that climbed over all of her brothers and sisters to impress me every time I came to see her. That walked under my feet and tried to work the pedals when I drove my truck. Whose puppy belly would get so big she could not climb the stairs. She was the the great baby snorer and queen of the bed. Life long companion to Elvis the King. The forever camera hog and super model. The beautiful baying bellower and squirrel chaser. Mother dog to the Big Boy. 

We will all miss you my love. I will forever miss my Cilla Pilla Pie. Sleep Cilla, your work is done here and we are all better for it.

Snowy River Priscilla

About The Urban Rifleman