Yeah, so, I want to thank everyone who commented, texted, called, tweeted and Facebooked about Homer. Your kind words really meant a lot.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you guys, it’s been tough. Homer was a part of our family, and for such a little dog he has left a very big hole.
The most difficult time for me has been in the evenings. After Calvin goes to bed, my mighty, mighty good man David and I sit on the couch to drink a beer and watch a movie, and Homer isn’t there to snuggle with us. Later, when we go to bed, Homer isn’t there to sleep with us. I’ve shed tears every night since he died. After almost 15 years of having him curl up and sleep at my feet, it hurts so much that he’s not there.
I realize it’s going to get better. But right now, it totally fuckin’ sucks.
My mighty, mighty good boy Calvin has handled it well. This is a tough thing for an almost 5-year-old boy to understand, let alone an almost 5-year-old autistic boy. The first morning without Homer, he asked where he was and went looking for him. It was so sad. I explained that Homer was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. I said, “Homer loves you very much. He will miss you.” And then I started crying, and Calvin became very concerned that I was crying.
We heard from the preschool teachers that Calvin was asking them to read books with him about dogs – books he doesn’t usually ask to read. And he was excitedly pointed out every dog we saw to and from the drive to preschool. He started asking to watch “Clifford.” He wasn’t talking about Homer, but he was clearly thinking about him and missing him.
Two days after he went looking for Homer, he mentioned him again. Calvin had gotten into our bed in the middle of the night. The next morning, I woke up and Calvin was looking at me.
“I’m sad,” he said.
“I’m so sorry you’re sad,” I replied. “Do you want a hug?”
“Why are you sad?” I asked.
“I’m sad,” he replied.
“Do you miss Homer?” I asked.
“Yes. I miss Homer,” he said.
This was a big moment. Calvin doesn’t really talk about his feelings. The fact that he recognized he was sad and said something was a big deal. I called David into the room, so we could all talk about it.
“We all miss Homer very much,” I told him. “It’s OK to be sad. I’m glad you told us.” We had a family hug, and David let him know that we were all sad about Homer, and it was OK to talk about him.
The next day, we saw a dog that kinda looked like Homer.
“It’s Homer,” Calvin said, excitedly.
We had to explain that the dog just looked like Homer, and that it wasn’t Homer. Obviously, Calvin doesn’t understand death, and I don’t know if I want him to yet, to be honest. Death sucks. Maybe he can go on a little bit longer without having to deal with heavy shit like death. I know I don’t want to deal with it, either.
Hey, remember when this blog used to be all restaurant reviews, fun stuff I did in San Francisco and stories about how awesome David is? Sigh. Now it’s all breast cancer, autism, dead family pets and panic attacks. Lame! I’ll try to write something a little more fun in the next post. What should I write about, you guys? Maybe it’s time for me to write the blog post about the worst wedding photo ever taken. It was taken at my friend Amanda and Brock’s wedding, and it’s definitely the worst photo of ME ever taken. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.