Though I walk through the shadow of the valley of Death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Today the sky is clear and calm, I watch as a cloud passes by without a care in the world. And I know he made it home. A tear flows down my cheek, as I didn’t want to say good-bye. Not yet, I wasn’t ready, If I ever would be.
And today, I didn’t say good-bye to the old man. I said see you later. 18 years, that’s a long time I tell myself. That’s the entire life span of my youngest son. He used to tug on my sailors diaper, steel his food, and slept in his bed as he grew into a young man. But, Rosco grew too. Over the years, he grew old right before our eyes. I’m going to miss you old man.
I am completely broken, I am defeated. I am trying to grasp my new world without you big boy. I remember just six months ago, when I prayed that you would hang on until your boy could get home from A school. And that you did. You wobbled when your left leg wouldn’t carry you anymore, still you carried on. And then you couldn’t get yourself up any longer your body aged before your spirit could catch up.
You held on, you took your pain meds like a pro. You still told me when you had to go out a pee. I had to help you. Even when your body wouldn’t let you rip that diaper off after you started leaking, you still found a way to get it done. I can still see you now, rubbing across the cabinet door until the handle would catch it, off it went. The look of triumph in your eyes. You still had that spark.
And yesterday, seems like forever ago. When you could no longer stand, you told me as I lifted you up that your fight was over. For the first time in eighteen long years, that you were done. It was time for me to stop making you stay.
I shed another tear. They are streaming down my face. Still I tried. I asked if you wanted boiled chicken and rice last night. And you tried, as I sat with you and hand fed it to you. Your favorite dish. And you looked at me with sad eyes. I knew you were holding on, because I wanted you to hold on. We sat through the night. Your head resting on my lap, sleeping peacefully.
Just this morning, a few hours ago, You knew we don’t pee in the house. You asked to go outside, but old man you couldn’t hold your head up. I watched with a tear as you struggled to drink from your dish. I carried you to the car, and you didn’t perk up for a ride. It was time.
When you took your last breath this morning, I held you. I looked in your eyes, as you looked into mine. Somehow I could see a thank you in there. And I told you it was okay. Go run old man, bark again, and find Molly. I’ve got you. You are free. But you took a part of me with you.
Today, my heart is broken, it’s hard to breathe. Tomorrow, I will remember you in your spunky mischievous days. The time you thought you could take down a cow. The day you decided it was a good idea to pee all over me. Your excitement when I said lets go for a ride.
This isn’t goodbye. It never was, It was I will see you again one day old man, I will see you again.
In Memory of Rosco 2008-6/3/2026. Rest in Peace Old Man. Until we meet again, I love you.