comments: 127


This past weekend was the second anniversary of losing Audrey. Time: It really flies. I used to hear people saying that when I was younger and I would think they were crazy. Were we on the same planet? During those long, boring, too-hot days of late summer, when there would be nothing to do but wait for the ice-cream man (who came down our street every night, right after dinner), I couldn't imagine how time could pass any more slowly. One morning I convinced another neighbor kid to start riding bikes around with me at 11:00 a.m., looking for the ice-cream man. We rode up and down and around the block, stopping occasionally to build traps in the sand pit or swing on the swings near my house or eat sandwiches, but generally the plan for the day was to ride around until we "found" him. Seven hours later we heard that ice-cream music warbling somewhere in the distance, right on time, right after dinner. Found him! I don't imagine that time ever goes so slowly now. But I always feel that need, in August, to slow it all down, and somehow that feeling is connected to my memory of Audrey, now.

Clover Meadow is, once again, curled next to me, smooshed between my hip and the pillow on the sofa as I write. She doesn't seem to mind that there is only a foot and a half of space. I certainly don't mind. She puts herself here (when Andy isn't home, that is — otherwise she only has smooshes for him). But I always feel a little amazed, somehow: She loves us. No matter what else I don't do with my life, no matter what I've messed up and will mess up. That's really something, though I know deep down it's more like grace, not earned but bestowed. I'll take it. It's a profound experience, to feel grace manifested in a warm, soft corgi cheek, pressed into your leg. You feel like you belong. She sleeps, breathing deep, paws twitching, the tip of her bunny-pink tongue just barely peeping out. On Saturday morning, I kissed her soft forehead and whispered secret messages for her to pass along to her auntie. Do you think that happens? Even on some sort of pure energy level? That, somehow, things that loved each other stay connected? Do you think there is some way that she might've heard?

I hope so.


Oh I know she passed on the sweet whispered messages. Rest assure. And if you can figure out how to slow down time let me know, it could come in handy when I watch my sons fly by me faster than a shooting star.

I´m sure she heard you!
Kindest regards

At our local dog park we've lost so many friends... when we know another one is close to departure we all say our goodbyes and let them know their friends are waiting at the new dog park - so they can all play again. And all of us, the owners, know that's where we'll be too one day, sitting at the table with all our dogs, just chatting away eternity. What more could any of us want?

Yes, I do too!

Sharon Stanley says: August 18, 2009 at 11:55 AM

Yes, I am certain she heard. I'll tell you why with all my heart I believe it. When my 3 year old son died, I grieved, as you can imagine, until I fully expected to die too. After some months passed, I happened to read a little blurb about a woman whose mother had died right before her wedding. As she walked down the isle, she noticed a rose, her mother's favorite flower, placed on the alter. Since she could never find who placed it there, she took it as a sign from her Mom that she did indeed watch over her and continue to love her just as she had done in life, and this was a comfort to her. After reading this, I felt almost jealous of her assured connection. Where was mine? How could I be sure my son could hear me when I spoke to him, know that the love we felt for him continued and vice/versa? Almost as a challenge to God, I said, "ok God, lets see what you're really made of...I have no connection to roses, and certainly Thomas didn't; if that connection really exsists, if the love is still there, send me a rose." Apparently God has a tolerance for grieving mothers and enjoys a good challenge now and then, because the very next day when I went to the mailbox, there, addressed to me in a small neatly wrapped package, were three little cakes of soap...rose scented soap. No note, no return address. I had told no one about my challange and frankly, until now have never told anyone...but there it is. Needless to say I never found out where the soap came from and I don't care... I'll take it. So yes, I am absolutely 100% certain the connection continues...human or continues...I know...

Yup--it's called "quantum entanglement," a scientific fact. Atoms that were once near to one another, even when separated by vast distances, tend to "act" as though they are still together. I also heard a radio program about an experiment on married couples who could somehow tell when the other was thinking of him/her. I believe it!

I know she heard you- I do! And I know she felt the love of all of us (and still does) all around the world.

Thinking of her. Thinking of you.

absolutely!!!! without a doubt!!!!

I know the babies understand us and pass on our sweet messages. I think that is why they are on this earth - to help us out with those unspoken tasks - for they are the only ones who can execute them with their undying love and affection

I hope so too.

I said goodbye to my best pal, my comfort and joy ... a big red goofy golden retriever named Jake a year and a half ago. We (my other dog Winnie Dixon) and I speak to him all the time. Especially when we're out on our walks and can look up at the sky and the big fluffy clouds or the twinkling stars and we tell him -we love him and we miss him -always.

thinking of you, Audrey and Miss Clover Meadow xo Susan & les Gang

LindaSonia says: August 18, 2009 at 12:22 PM

I hope so too - for me and for you and for everyone everywhere who's ever loved and lost a pet.

Sleep tight Audrey - we love you still and always will.


Yes. Absolutely.

Yes I'm sure there is a connection even though I have no proof. My beloved cat KitKat died before Christmas. I missed her very much and a few months later I got Miaowski. I often ask Miaowski to pass on messages to KitKat because I feel that cats have a 6th sense and are aware of the spirit world. Also I think KitKat might have given Miaowski a few lessons on how to behave - actually I think Miaowski has ignored most of those lessons as she is a total law unto herself!

The "Other" Alicia :) says: August 18, 2009 at 12:30 PM

I talk to my lost furbabies a lot. I do believe they hear us. And there is some comfort in that.

She heard

She knows...

I honestly don't know. But I know that love is important, and I believe that more exists than what we see.

This entry made tear up, and I'm at work. And I don't know what you mess up, but I like the things I know of that you do with your life.

Oh yes Alicia, I believe with all my heart that the connection to those we have loved and lost can never, ever be broken.

"The pain passes, but the beauty remains." RENOIR

I hope they do...
I love your writing Alicia... I find it so soothing, inspiring, beautiful... whenever I read your blog, it reminds me that life is indeed beautiful... bad day or good day! Thank you so much...

I was thinking of Audrey yesterday and took some time to go backward in your blog and look at some of her pictures. And relive the pain of reading of her loss once again. I had just lost my own little Westie, Brodie, and I knew how traumatized you and Andy must be.

I definitely believe their spirit lingers among us. I will always remember losing a beloved dog, Barkley, in 1997 and getting Brodie a few months later. The first time I took him to the woods where I had walked Barkley, I stood in amazement as he ran from one hidden and cherish Barkley spot to another. It was if Barkley was there leading him along the way "Here, check out the place here when foxes run and over the hill a bit you can get a whiff of the does taking a midday nap!"

I think our spirits do live on and those that we love watch over us in a loving way. I hope they approve of the things we do, decisions we make. And that they can still tell, without a doubt, how much we love them and miss them. Till we meet again.


Oh, she heard and knows, of that I am certain!

She heard the whispers. She knows. :)

Of course she did. They always do. Two of our three sweet kitties are getting closer to shadow-time and though it breaks my heart into tiny pieces, I'm committed to loving them fully and joyfully every day that we have with them. And then, when they have moved on, I know they will still be there looking on and loving us still, as we will always love them.

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About Alicia Paulson


My name is Alicia Paulson
and I love to make things. I live with my husband and daughter in Portland, Oregon, and design sewing, embroidery, knitting, and crochet patterns. See more about me at