His sister Maya, who for twelve years has taken a back seat, now has our attention in full force. We seek her out when she wanders off. We take her with us on errands. We show her off in public. We love her in a way we haven’t before.
We have time back. The time of helping him onto his bed and off his bed. Of helping him stand and helping him sit. Of supporting him up the stairs, and supporting him down. Of medicating him, and feeding him by hand, and staying in a room to keep him company when everyone else was outside.
We have freedom to leave our four dogs for more than an hour. To go to meetings with new clients. Or for a drive. Or out to dinner.
Small things. But things that are better. And that we can make even better.
I wish Harry were still alive. With all my heart and soul.
But there is a release that has come - for him and for us - that is undeniably good.
This is a new kind of change for me. Unwanted and painful.
And I understand, now, why change is so hard for so many.
But there are possibilities that exist today that did not before. And that is something to embrace.
I love Harry.
And I love change.
And one does not deny the other.