On this day six years ago, my sweet Lee breathed her last. Her death was not sudden or unexpected.
The cancer took its time, forcing us eventually to look past hope. For me, the first real glimmer into a future without Lee occurred a few months earlier, as she began to experience severe and frightening bouts of pain in her abdomen.
Her doctors largely ignored her complaints. Perhaps they already suspected where this thing was headed; if so, then nobody stepped up to prepare us. Even as the world at large grappled with a burgeoning, unique pandemic, day by day, my own world shrank as I attended to Lee’s immediate needs and well-being. I felt helpless, isolated, and abandoned. I can’t remember a time when I felt less hopeful about the future.
Thus, even before Lee passed, I might have begun mourning her. However, I quickly discovered that nothing had prepared me for the reality of life without her.
The days and weeks following her death were emotionally fraught. I could feel Lee’s death in my gut. I shook. I cried. I pounded my fists in anger. Tasks relating to her death consumed me, yet, as I recall now, ironically, these provided an interlude from the painful images of our happy life together that flooded my mind. Once, I even took my anger out on a medicine cabinet, disposing of Lee’s numerous medications in a dark plastic bag I dropped off at a police station for safe disposal.
I also lost interest in my business. Today, I can say that Lee’s death marked the beginning of the end of a successful, decades-long career as an attorney. Her early death helped me to set my priorities straight.
I was then still too raw to revisit any of our countless happy adventures.
ENTER LOLA THE WONDER DOG
My isolation prompted action. I am an animal lover by nature, and I’ve kept pets most of my life, though never a dog. In the immediate aftermath of Lee’s death, and with the pandemic still raging, I made the decision I would get a dog. For one thing, I could now make time at home to care for a puppy.
It seems a lot of folks were having the same idea, because getting a dog proved to be a highly competitive endeavor. My personal effort included writing a short essay to the Ohio breeders, extolling why I was a good candidate for one of the puppies from the latest litter. I drove to their farm and brought home “Lola,” the name I bestowed on my beautiful black English Labrador puppy. We returned home by way of an overnight stay at Deer Tick Manor. I still recall putting Lola outside on the front porch in the morning as I prepared to leave Deer Tick, then being startled when I spotted a large hawk in a nest high in a tree. At the time, Lola would have resembled a small black rabbit.
I’m happy to tell you that Lola will be six on July 28. Since Lee’s death, I’ve spent more time with Lola than with any other living creature. She is a sweet dog without a mean bone in her body, who, I was told, could have been a snooty, show dog but for a slight imperfection in the shape of her tail. I think Lola is smarter than Lassie, but then I am biased.
Suffice to say, I’m Lola’s guy. And she is my pup. Today, I can’t imagine my life without her. It’s been like that since Day One. It is no exaggeration that during a tough time in my life, Lola helped lift my spirits and pointed me in a positive direction.
A NEW LOVE
When it finally came time to seek a connection with another human being, I turned to an online dating site. As you may recall, during the pandemic, the contacts were virtual, usually preceded by an introductory message, responding to another’s photograph and personal message. (My photograph was posted, too.) Not exactly conducive to “meets cute” moments, but that’s how Robyn and I first met.
After graduating from “Zoom,” we agreed to meet for dinner at a popular Greek taverna. (By then, the first version of a Covid vaccine had recently become available.) Unsurprisingly, the joint was jumping, and the parking lot was jammed.
I knew a little bit about Robyn; for example, that she worked for an art dealer who represented Dr. Seuss’s estate, among other artists. So naturally, I wore a silly Cat-in-the-Hat-style hat, which I thought would make for a humorous in-person introduction, stood waiting for her at the valet drop-off in my best suit and this hat, ready to make a good first impression when Robyn arrived.
I anxiously watched as she pulled into the lot, slowed, gave me a quizzical once-over, and hesitated for several seconds — as if she were thinking better of this rendezvous– before partially lowering the passenger-side window to say hello. Robyn unlocked the door. I opened it, climbed inside, sat down, and, as they say, the rest is history!
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I love Robyn. Robyn loves me.
Yet, being older and fully formed, with two lifetimes of different experiences between us to inform our relationship, makes our love unique. Sometimes I will kid with Robyn that we have nothing in common, but the truth is that our love connection is real and deep. Today, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.
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My good, loving woman. My sweet, loyal canine companion. Life is good! And somewhere in this vast universe, I know my Lee is smiling.
