The earth in the stony mountains is hard-packed and tough with roots all through it, even when you dig away from the growing things.
My husband worked with gloved hands, pushing and stomping a shovel into the red dirt, to break a hole where his grandma's dog Rhett would lay to rest. Just about a month ago he came to live with my in-laws after the sudden loss of his owner and rescuer, Dorothy, one of the sweetest of ladies that ever lived.
Dorothy got Rhett after he was rescued from an abusive home. For the first few years, he shied around doors as if expecting punishment on the other side. It was also said he mistrusted men for a long time. By the time I met him, not a trace of those fears remained.
Rhett was old. He had a seizure disorder and arthritis. He had just lost his best friend in the whole world. He was happy at the Grahams' but his poor body couldn't take the loss. We buried him today in the garden, overlooking the house.
This year has been a year of loss. It's been a year of battles. It's been a year of growing closer to those we love and realizing a deeper appreciation for the unconditional love of the family and friends that surround us through the bad times and good. I have an amazing husband an incredible family and wonderful in-laws to thank for the support that has gotten me through this year. The hardest part about this is that I don't get to tell Dorothy "thank you."
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