He Passed The Torch
#73 - The Student becomes the Master, becomes the Student.
“It’s the end of the day, but it feels like dawn, and a new beginning. It comes to me that both twilight periods are, in fact, symmetrical events on opposite sides of midnight, a cycle of endless creation and destruction, an Ouroboros.”
―Florian Armas
Years ago, as I watched Tucker's aging body slowly break down, I lamented what my life would be like without him.
I didn't know if I was ready to face reality without my dog by my side, yet I knew the time was quickly coming when I would no longer have a choice.
Tuck's enriching companionship and mature candor showed me a friendship like I'd never felt before, and I wondered if I would ever be able to bond with another dog as strongly as him.
And after our stiff, shortening walks, we would lay on the floor, and I'd talk to him.
"How could I ever open my heart to a new dog once you're gone, Tuck?"
"How could anyone else try to fill your shoes, dude? Why can't we last forever?"
The light danced in his eyes, his tail smacking the ground. He always knew I'd be ok, and quietly shared his peace.
Until one morning when, without my knowing, we took our last walk together. And that afternoon I carried his blanket-wrapped body to the car.
Time swilled my living tears to hydrate, and the Earth re-claimed what had always been hers.
How do you live on?
I spent the following months alone in the world, walking across San Francisco, daily, like it was my driveway. I rode my bicycle up every mountain around, and dedicated every drop of sweat to him.
I slept in bed alone, and faced the night without companion. The only one who truly understood me was gone, and I needed to know I was enough for myself in his absence.
And when the call to adventure rose, I followed it on to the road, planting his ashes in all the rivers, mountains, cities, and forests he would have loved to explore, together.
Over one year, and about 8,000 miles, I was born into a new life. I promised him I would Live Harder, and that promise evolved me like he knew it would.
Through experiences I can not deny, he made his presence known, and I felt him by my side the whole time, in his new form.
And during our travels, I learned to believe I am worthy of the love he showed. How my awareness of it does not change its abundance. And how I must cultivate it within myself in order to rise into my destiny.
The passing of the torch
Once I came off the road and settled back down indoors, I felt lonely for the first time in a year. The physical absence of my K-9 companion was palpable in my new home, yet I still carried his presence.
My gut instinct told me it was time to welcome a new dog into my life, but I was scared and still didn't think I was ready.
Looking through websites of each shelter within a 50 mile radius, I fell in love with every dog, but none of them felt like they were to be my dog.
Until one day in early January when I jumped out of my chair with excitement. Slamming my computer closed, I dashed to grab my shoes, and flew out the door in a flash.
"That's him, holy s#!&, that's him", I chanted to myself as I raced to the shelter, about 40 miles away.
"Katie, I'm getting a new dog today", I shrieked to my friend on the phone, as I careened down the highway at 90.
"Oh YAY... Dude… You should get TWO", she taunted, as my mind swirled in Love and Fear.
And less than an hour later, the dog from that photo clawed at my legs with his walnut sized paws, proclaiming his name to be, “Juice”.
And when he climbed onto my lap for the car ride home, my living tears anointed his forehead. Our eyes locked and I whispered a new promise to my young companion as he took his first nap in my lap.
"Juice, I am going to give you the best life you could ever possibly imagine, and you are going to do the same for me. This is our pact. We are friends forever, buddy."
Together again, in a new form
When I think about it now, I laugh.
The boy who Tucker saved is now dust in the wind with him, kicked up by the wheels of the man he became.
And with Juice by my side, we live a new lifestyle together. One I never could have imagined back when I got old and frail with Tuck, all those years ago.
Juice is only a year and a half old, and he’s already seen over 5,000 miles of this country. And this 40-something pound lightning bolt tests me in ways Tucker never did.
He innocently pushes buttons I didn't even know I had, just by being unabashedly himself. And in the process he has shown me sides of myself I was too scared to face alone.
His ever-expanding love knows no end, and I am amazed to witness the fervor with which he freely shares it. A mutual gratitude is well understood between us.
I used to think I would never be able to replace Tucker, and that's why I was so scared to lose him. But I've learned his love needs not be replaced, because it can never die. He still rides with me and Juice.
And when, bouncing off the walls, the Juiceman proves his namesake, I remember how hard it was to get old with Tuck, at the end. So I laugh with my boy, and egg him on as much as I can, because we’ll both have to slow down too, one day.
But not today.
So we say, "Thank you, Tucker." For passing the torch, for teaching us to be grateful for what we have now, and for what we’ve always had.
As we approach our next big adventure, we will continue to spread his ashes across the land, together.
We will swim in the river, dance in the redwoods, sing in the car, and bathe in the light of The Sun.
And, Tuck, do keep those roads clear for us, would you?
With immense Gratitude, your friend,
Beautiful!