“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength...while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”
It has been 2 weeks since the day my beloved dog of 14 years passed away.
His name was Gobi, and his name was derived from the famous Gobi desert. His name truly resonated with his unique characteristics, as he was one of a kind. He was one of those dogs that when you meet him once, you will remember him. Yet he was not your typical cheery, jolly-frolicking type of dog that welcomes you when you visit him. He was definitely not the prettiest dog, not the softest nor fluffy kind, nor was he the most compromising, and definitely not the nicest dog. He was not the cuddly or cute type, and he certainly knew how to make a statement if he didn't care for you much. And if he needed a butt scratch, he would vocalize like no other. Most of the time he would act cool, with his nonchalant, pissed-off look and somewhat poised stand. But behind this "I don't give a shit" visage he tried to put up, he was a very sensitive, extremely gentle towards children and small animals, loving, ridiculously hilarious, super adorable and protective dog.
He was my dog, my very first dog, my teacher, and my best friend.
Saying goodbye to him was harder than I could ever imagine, as I've heard over the years how excruciating that separation experience could be from fellow dog owners, but never have I imagined how difficult it would be when it was my turn to say goodbye. Even though I knew he was suffering and no longer can function normally, that it is time to let him go, yet I still hesitated, because saying goodbye to him also meant saying goodbye to my old self.
I still remember that one warm summer afternoon 14 years ago while roaming down one of the streets in Sai Kung, my husband and I came about where animal rescuers were showcasing dogs for adoption. All the kids and families hover over the adorable puppies, while Gobi was the only "older" dog that stood by himself on the sidewalk. The rescuer guessed he was around a year old, and called him "charcoal", as the shade of his fur is in between dark grey to black. When he saw my husband and I walked over, he came by and sat on my husband's foot. (Later we found out that that was distinctly Gobi's habit, as my husband always says, it's his way of not letting his butt hole get cold, so he needed something to sit on.) And that moment became history, we knew he was the one. Because he picked us.
When I look back, I realized the period when I had Gobi was at my life's lowest point. Not only was I battling with alcohol addiction, I was genuinely not my best self. I cannot imagine how my life would be if he was not there with me through those very very dark times. Everywhere I go he would follow, and he would never let me out of his sight. His mission was to protect me as he knew deep down I was not equipped or lucid enough most of the time to protect myself. When I was living in my studio in an industrial area, not a soul is around at dark and it can get dangerous. Often times I would take Gobi with me to 7-11, or roam around the dimly lit streets, and I would never be scared. And he was always there to comfort me when I was sad. He always knew when to come near me as he felt my feelings deeper than I was aware of them. Without his comfort I would never know I was feeling sad, and somehow he taught me how to be comforted, and it is ok to be comforted.
When I was pregnant with my son, he was the first to notice before I knew. For he would put his head on my lap all the time, and followed me everywhere. And when my son was born, he would not let any stranger near him. He has his ways of telling me when there are places I shouldn't go to, doors that I shouldn't enter, and people I should be aware of. He truly was my guardian angel, guiding me as a light in the dark.
Somehow, my grief over his passing, is also the grief of the passing of my old self. I did not realize how much I was still holding onto until his passing. And yet, this time I knew it was time to unclench my fist. I felt a big part of me died together with him. A part of me that was from my past, and who I was in my life when I was living in Hong Kong. Gobi knew, after I moved to America, I needed him to be there for me for my final stretch to come out of my internal shell. He came here to help me with this stretch that stretched all the way across the ocean, and witnessed how it cracked open my heart, so that I can receive for the very first, the liberty to learn to truly and fully love myself for who I am. Gobi knew who I am, and he loved every bit of me: not any less when I was at my worse, and not any less now that I am on the path of healing.
He knew, I am now ready to move on.
Even though saying goodbye was not easy, and at times my heart aches when I think of him. Yet every time I think of him, the ache can only remind me of his love for me, and my love for him. And how much courage he has given me through all these years to learn to love.
And now, for his final lesson and his gift to me, is to teach me to let go. For letting go is also an important part of love that completes the heart.
I love you Gobi. You will forever be in my heart.
xo