I have been holding on to Fred’s ( our pug) stroller for over a year since he died. It still has his old grey hairs stuck in the black fur cushion that he laid on for his final walks in Seattle.
I posted it on Facebook Marketplace. Lots of people responded.
My son freaked out when he found out I was selling it.
“No it’s the last thing that we have of Freddy,” we both teared up.
I picked up the soft black cushion and held it up to my nose. I wrapped my arms around it for one last time. A smell so familiar I could almost feel his sweet presence.
My soft cushion around my heart tightened like it does when I think about loss.
The lady messaged me back and she said she was really looking forward to getting this stroller for her dog. He was attacked by a pitbull in front of her child’s school. Cost her $6000 dollars and her dog lost most of it’s organs and still lived. She explained that she has PTSD herself and this was so traumatizing that she hasn’t been out for a walk. Her dog is 10, she asked if the stroller zipped up.
I read this out loud to my son and our hearts about exploded with sadness and empathy and a deeper kind of knowing. A universal feeling that Fred had something to do with this. He brought so much joy to us for 15 years. He would want more than anything for this little dog to feel saftey in his little red stroller.
We all teared up, smiled and wrote the lady back to say we would be happy for her to have this stroller.
It’s so hard to let go of the things we love.
Sometimes they show us how to let go of them in other ways.
If you have been there you know this. So today were passing on a little red stroller and a piece of our heart. Freddy would be so happy. So are we.
Loss has a way of letting us know it’s ok.