Saying Goodbye Again

Two weeks ago today, I had double knee surgery.  When my head is finally free from the meds, I have a series of posts planned for that experience, but for now, here is a post related to the loss of Trucker and demonstrating what a powerful effect all the meds I was taking had on my mind.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Trucker died April 20.  Nineteen days later, I underwent double knee replacement surgery.  A lot happened in those nineteen days.  Vacation, return to work, prep for surgery.  I thought I was working through my grief.   It still weighed heavily on my mind because in the hospital, under the influence of pain medicines, Trucker appeared in my dreams.  Every night, I searched for him and found he was not really dead.  Once, friends convinced me to go for a trail ride, renting horses to ride at a favorite park.  Someone must have thought it would help me get over the loss.  Instead, when we arrived, Trucker was a part of the trail riding company’s team of horses, and I recovered my old friend.  Another time, I went to look at another horse to buy and instead discovered Trucker was for sale.  I brought him back home.  Still another dream featured a friend who found him wandering on a major highway.  She caught him and rode him back to my house.  The dreams were disturbing leaving me sad and grieving each morning.  Over and over, I woke to the reminder that he was buried in the back yard and never coming home.  The last night I dreamed about Trucker was different.  Early one morning, I stood in our backyard alone except for the dogs who surrounded me seeking some attention.  Trucker’s barn mates were away camping.  I looked at the empty barn and said aloud to the dogs, “Well, there are no horses to feed this morning.”  Then, I glanced back and Trucker was standing in his stall.  He looked around and saw me and as I held my breath, he walked through the fence and came to the house towards me.  I stroked his sides and could tell he had regained all his lost weight.  His mane and tail were shiny, clean and free of tangles. His skin, once plagued with allergies causing sores and hair loss, was beautifully smooth and clear.  I placed my cheek against his neck and cried with happiness that he was back.  Oddly, the dogs knew he was there, but they did not bark and try to harass him.  Then, he turned and walked back to the barn, looking at me one more time over his shoulder before disappearing.  I woke with such peace.  I knew he would not be back, that I did not need to look for him anymore, but it was okay.  He was okay.  So, am I.  I do not know if I have the meds to thank or that Trucker knew I needed closure.  Or that God orchestrated the dream to help me heal.  I suspect it was a little of all three.  Because God is the God of “all comfort”, I give Him thanks that I got to say good bye to Trucker one last time and this time, he was healthy and whole.