Recently I have been hijacking my parents Facebook account and visiting the Rainbow Bridge Dogs group. There are multiple posts daily from parents who have just lost their pups and are grieving with every fiber of their souls. I tell the parents that I met their babies at the Bridge, and they are young and healthy again, they will visit their broken-hearted parents as flying birds or butterflies, the parents will see their pups in their dreams, and sometimes, just out of the corner of their eye.
Occasionally a post contained so much sorrow I become worried about the author, such as the words written by Daddy Roc, who lost his beloved Ginger Lynn to cancer suddenly in November.
I met, and swore in, Ginger on the day she crossed. I was enamored with her the first time I laid eyes on her. A lovely girl. Of course, she is a Yorkie. There is something so special about that breed. She was like looking in a mirror.
Immediately she told me about concerns regarding her Dad. I assured her that his journey through grief’s road would be horrific, but he was strong, and he would surely come out on the other side whole.
Six weeks later Ginger and I were sitting on the river bank watching the water and worrying about her Dad. He comes on the Rainbow Bridge page every day and leaves a message for his sweet girl. There is still an overabundance of sorrow conveyed in his writings. Ginger is frustrated she can’t answer assure him she is here. I admitted that I could. She climbed all over me, licking and pawing at me. I am a little off put by the affection, but I understood.
So, if I may, I would like to address myself to Daddy Roc. I know you miss Ginger Lynn. I have been friends with her for only six weeks, and I would long for her if she left me. Please understand she is not gone. She is somewhere that you can’t access. I know, that is as bad as being gone, but know in your heart that she still exists, sharply barking, wagging her little tail, softly licking, looking at her friends with eyes that appear to be peering into your very soul, and making everyone smile. It is hard to believe but how would I know all these details about her if I hadn’t just seen her and touched her soft hair?
Once you have accepted that Ginger still exists your mind will open to the possibility of her returning, just not in a form you recognize. The only creatures who can fly between the mortal and immortal lands are those born with wings. Sometimes we angels convince our flying friends to borrow their bodies and visit our parents, as birds butterflies, or other agreeable souls.
Someday soon I hope you see a winged creature who shouldn’t be there, or when spring a butterfly who is lingering with you, and you think that it might be Ginger. When that day comes, you will progress to believing it could be her, and then finally accepting it is her. When my parents see a butterfly in their yard, they say “Hi Foley.” The neighbors used to think it was strange but now they say “Hi Foley,” too.
The same holds true for unexplained bumps in the night or something you see out of the corner of your eye. Ginger is striving hard to make herself known to you. But you have to believe first.
And she will be visiting you in your dreams. If you awaken with your heart feeling light know Ginger was there.
She also has an assignment. You need to keep going forward, not because it is easy, but because it is difficult and painful. You are still in the early stages of your journey through grief. Ginger needs you to keep going forward for her, to take care of her children and siblings, until you finish your journey. In the end, you will find a dog you love almost as much as you love Ginger. You and that dog will rebuild your heart.
Ginger wants you, and all grieving parents, to open their hearts, their minds and to believe.
Endings are so terribly sad, but beginnings are joyful. We hope you are close to the beginning than the end.
And most of all Ginger wants you to know she loves you very much.