May 16, 2009
Between two races
I ran my first 5K last Saturday. I ran my second 5K today.
A lot happened between them. A lot I’d rather have not happened. But I don’t get to decide these things.
The first was on Tuesday. Our pastor, his wife, and their teenage son lost their 20-year-old son/brother to suicide. From my very limited knowledge of the situation, they knew he was having a hard time this year, but this was still completely unexpected and none of his family or friends saw it coming. Our church is grieving hard for this sweet family.
And then our own tragedy hit Thursday—one that was much smaller in the grand scheme of things, but one that has consumed my focus because it affected me personally. Our sweet Sasha died around 7:00 Thursday morning. We were expecting her death at some point because of her cancer, but we were not expecting it that day. In fact, she had been doing great the few days preceding her death and seemed so healthy and full of life, just like our old Sasha. I didn’t know until afterwards about the “final rally” before death that happens in many cancer patients. I’m glad I didn’t know. If you want to read more about what happened, you can read David’s post here.
It’s day 3, and it’s not getting any easier yet. I wonder how long it takes? A week? Two weeks? A month?
I had already registered for the Paws on the Pavement 5K, which benefits CARE (Central Arkansas Rescue Effort) for Animals. Had this been any other 5K, I probably would have ditched it. But it seemed like an appropriate thing to do to go ahead and run it, given the cause. I could run this one for Sasha. And I did.
I don’t know why I did this to myself, but I just kept imagining she was there at the finish line waiting for me, the way she did when she was separated from one of us and would watch anxiously until we returned, wagging her whole body at the long-awaited (even if it had only been 2 minutes) reunion. Ok, maybe that was the wrong thing to do, because it was all I could do to keep from bawling after it was over and she wasn’t really there, and wouldn’t ever be there, except in my head. (Don’t worry—I let myself cry on the car ride home.)
But I finished in 29 minutes 2 seconds. That’s the best time I’ve ever done. Last week, I was running for me. This week, I was running for her. I guess it made a difference.
Comments(11)
hey jennifer & david,
i am SO, SO, sad to hear about Sasha. it is so incredibly sad to loose a pet and i have been praying for ya’ll.
when we put my dog preston to sleep 5 years ago, shane had never, ever seen me so upset. it is so hard. it will get easier someday, i promise.
Not many people share the kindred spirit that we have in the way we love our dogs. But I remember that one short visit I had with Sasha when I came over to visit when Jill was in town years ago. And I just want to say again, I am so sorry for your loss.
I actually remember getting a picture of her, even though she doesn’t love the camera.
She was one mighty special dog. I’ve been hugging Precious every day in remembrance of Sasha.
I am so proud of you and your decision to run for Sasha. WOW. Let yourself grieve. This takes lots of time, and you will never truly “get over” your loss. You will, however, be a better person/wife/mommy for having had your years with Sasha. I miss her, too.
David shared your story with CARE and I was touched by your grief for Sasha and determination to run in the POP 5K. What a wonderful tribute to Sasha and a kind gesture for CARE.
Harry A. Light, President
CARE for Animals, Inc.
I am truly sorry about Sasha. I know she was your “child” in every possible way.
i have a feeling sasha knew your heart might not fully be in this 5K, so she got behind you & gave you that extra “push” to finish…and, finish with your best time at that! :)
i’m sure sasha will make her presence known to you & david in many ways…just to let you know she’s always with you & always a part of you…forever.
(i know some of these things i say on your blog or on david’s blog might sound corny, but i honestly believe them. it’s something i can’t explain)
I’m so sorry about your puppy dog. I know you loved her well throughout her life.
My heart goes out to your pastor and family. I truly do know what they are going through. Do you think it would be appropriate for me to write them a letter or send a card? If so, give me their name and address and I will be happy to do so.
I also know how you feel about your dog. When I lost the first one, it was my decision because she was so old and in such a bad way. That was really hard, but when I lost Frisco (the big black lab) it was evident that he was gravely ill, and I sat with him on the back porch with my hands on his body until he passed.
I still miss them both, and it took me several months to decide to get another dog, but she’s a delight and a wonderful friend and companion.
Oh no! I’m so sorry to hear about your Sasha!
This weekend makes exactly one year since we unexpectedly lost our sweet little black cat. Even though the raw grief eventually faded, I’m missing that furry child of mine something fierce today.
Take all the time you need to grieve and don’t feel the need to apologize about it. Sasha was family.
[…] a little over a year, we’ve had to say goodbye to three dogs. First, we lost our precious Sasha to cancer. Then, we were fostering Russ through his heartworm treatment, and we lost him to […]
I’m so sad to hear about that. But thinking them as an inspiration is good as well because with that mentality we can be able to reach the finish line in an earlier time.