Unfinished Business

Unfinished Business

In the time since writing about the day Bailey left us, I have strived to move on. I have a new puppy now—a beautiful silver lab named Ash’s King Clancy. Clancy has not replaced Bailey in any way, but he has helped me cry a lot less. In fact, it has been quite a long time since I last cried—until today.

In referring to one of my many stops of the day, I told my assistant Katrina: “I have to drop something off at Bailey’s vet.” As the words came out of my mouth I caught myself. Of course I meant “Clancy’s vet” but 13 years of habit is hard to break. Katrina reminded me that Bailey was a special creature that was unique in every sense of the word. As she spoke, I welled up with tears. It reminded me of my love for my friend and more importantly, that I wasn’t finished telling our story.

While I do not recall the drive home from the vet clinic, I do remember how empty our home felt the instant we walked through the door. Of my three daughters, Ivy took Bailey’s passing the worst. Even though she had just turned four years old she fully understood what had happened. I held her on our couch in the family room as we both cried. And although Bailey had been gone for less than an hour Ivy kept saying: “I miss Bailey.” Ivy is a true animal lover and from the moment that she was born she had her own special connection with Bailey. Sometimes I wonder if it was because we allowed Bailey to sleep in our room on the first night we took Ivy home from the hospital—something we did not do with our first daughter, Elle.

I didn’t fall asleep that night until about 4:00 am. When I woke up, Melinn had just come back upstairs after feeding the kids breakfast. Before saying a thing, she broke down in tears. You see, Melinn too had her own relationship with Bailey that was separate and distinct from everyone else. Melinn is an early riser—getting up before everyone else to prepare breakfast and have her morning coffee. But Melinn was rarely alone in this routine. Every morning Bailey would get up with her and go downstairs. Similarly, when Melinn went to bed, Bailey would often join her. He was her shadow—a quiet companion that kept her company in the early morning hours and made her feel safe when I was away.

I went down to the kitchen to greet the kids. As I entered, Ivy said: “I miss Bailey, Daddy.” “I know, Ives. Me too. But where is Bailey now?” I asked. “He’s at Rainbow Bridge” she replied.

In explaining the passing of Bailey to my children I had told them the story of Rainbow Bridge:

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. 



When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. 
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. 
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. 



All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. 
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. 



They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. 



You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. 



Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... 



Author unknown...

Today I was reminded of my unfinished business. Although Bailey is gone, there are at least a few more stories to tell….and so I will keep telling those stories until there are no more.