Simplicity and Beauty

Simplicity and Beauty

It’s been a little while since I’ve posted another story in this space. I have made many excuses to myself about why the frequency of my writing has diminished—work, kids, charity work, family vacation. None of these excuses hold water. The truth is that every story about my life with Bailey brings me closer to the end and closer to the time where I have to talk about his diagnosis, my emotions, his final days and the time immediately after his death. The wounds are still very fresh. Maybe I feel that writing about the saddest times would re-open a floodgate of emotions. Or maybe I know that writing about these times would somehow help me to move on—and I am not ready to move on. I am filled with fear—the fear that one day I will have moved on and forget how much he meant to me. I do not want my actions or feelings to be a disservice to his memory.

So while I am not yet ready to talk about those things just yet, I will say this: My love for Bailey grew deeper after his diagnosis. It made me truly appreciate the gift I had been given. As I look back on his life, it is not the collection of stories contained herein that I think about. Rather I think about the simple times and just how beautiful and perfect they were.

Bailey seemed to really enjoy our routine. After the kids were asleep Bailey and I would retire to the basement for an evening of television. As I would head towards the stairs leading to the basement Bailey would spring to his feet as if we were going somewhere exciting. Once in the basement, he would lie on the couch next to me occasionally lifting his head to make sure I had not left him—and as long as we were together there was no other place in the world that he would rather be.

On days that Bailey accompanied me to work, he would always be excited to greet everyone in the office. At work he would sit by my desk scratching the drawer where I kept the Milk Bones. It didn’t matter to him if I was on the phone or had someone in my office for a meeting—if Bailey wanted a treat, he would sit there until I obliged his request. I always found it amusing that his needs were always so simple: feed me, love me and hang out with me. It was this simplicity that made him beautiful.

Wherever we went, I always took great pleasure in his happiness. It didn’t matter if we were taking a drive or going to the vet. No matter where we went, he was happy.

I miss the simple times the most. Watching television, going to the office, feeding him treats, giving him toys, and watching him get excited when someone new comes over. And maybe this time with Bailey has taught me about being a better father to my daughters. We live in a world where we tend to over-program our children—ballet, skating, music class, play dates. The best times are the simple times—just being together.