backing up: love, loss, and a promise kept

after being warned countless times about the risk of not backing up the files on my computer, i finally conceded.

i bought a few USB flash drives and vowed to sit down once a month and go through photos and other docs, securing them on this little stick.

with the long weekend, and not much work to be done, i thought it was the perfect time to make a smoothie, relax, and make some space on my computer.

iPhoto is my virtual photo album, a bank of memories. photos of vacations, long weekends with friends, and even videos of failed attempts at the saltine challenges (which took place at 1 a.m. in a local diner).

going through iphoto is like a trip down memory lane. clearing photos off my computer always takes me a while—i end up spending most of the time e-mailing photos and videos to myself to share with friends rather than adding them to the flash drive.

yesterday, though, i came across two photos that really tugged at my heart strings. both of which i hadn't seen in quite some time.

photo #1

i remember the day this photo was taken like it was yesterday. tex was 17, and while it was hard to admit it to ourselves, we knew that these were undoubtedly his last few months with us. 

after pleading with her for some time, my mom finally agreed to bring home over to my house. 

i couldn't bare the thought of living some place where he had never set foot. i needed him here. i needed to be able to close my eyes some day and picture him here. 

while our house looks nothing like it does in these photos, i can still picture him at the base of my staircase. it was the first, and last time he ever was in this house. but i'm so grateful to have had him here. 

just 5 months after that photo was taken tex was gone.

my heart was in pieces. 

i can imagine anyone who has ever lost a pet before knows what that intolerable ache feels like. it's a constant longing. a desperate desire for just one more moment together. 

a few months prior, my mom and i sat at the table in her kitchen. i was holding tex in my arms while the two of us were talking and reminiscing about his puppy days. i looked at tex and pleaded, "send me a sign when you're there, let me know that you're okay." 

i know this next sentence is going to sound ridiculous, but, HE NODDED. thankfully, my mom was there to witness this moment and can attest to it. 

in that moment we laughed so hard, and cried even harder. 

i'll preface this next photo with a little background:

nearly every time i go on vacation i see a schnauzer. from florida to peru, it always happened. i always had serious separation anxiety whenever i left tex, especially as he got older—the presence of these vacation schnauzers always made me smile. 

tex was euthanized 2 weeks before i left for costa rica. i cried myself to sleep every night. knowing full well about my vacation schnauzers, my dad tried to manage my expectations. he explained to me that costa rica was a stretch, and not to get my hopes up of seeing one there. 

a nearly 3 hour drive to our villa had me feeling removed from the sadness of home. i was feeling better, and less focused on the loss. we settled in, and decided to walk to the local super market for some snacks. 

no sooner did we enter the store and round the first aisle than i saw...you guessed it...a schnauzer. i literally screamed, and then broke out into uncontrollable sobs. the dog's family—behind me—looked at me like i was completely out of my mind. 

in a pathetic attempt at spanish i tried to explain. i must have succeeded, though. the woman (behind me) smiled, and plopped him right into my arms. i couldn't wait to get back to the villa and e-mail my dad.

photo #2

tex kept his promise to me, and that sweet little schnauzer in super joseth brought me more peace than any hug or kind word could. 

these photos brought up so much emotion. between the insane wind last night, and thoughts of tex, i couldn't sleep. dogs are such incredibly intuitive animals, finley must have sensed my unrest. we got out of bed and sat out in the backyard at 2 am to listen to the wind. 

we sat out there for a few minutes together. i remembered a quote that helped me through the first few weeks without tex...

grief is a matter of the heart and soul. grieve your loss, allow it in, and spend time with it. suffering is the optional part. love never dies, and spirit knows no loss. 

i let the sadness settle in, i spent a few moments with it, and let it go. we watched the wind for a little while longer and went back to bed.

xx 

(ps-this is sort of a PSA to back up your photos! i'd be devastated to lose these. and i'm sure everyone's got a few gems they feel the same way about.)