Ruby Year One

Dearest Ruby,

Today marks an entire lap around the sun without you. And although the sun shines no more for you, because of you it shines so brightly for so many.

Today records that it is 365 days since the midnight tap of your paws went quiet and your little brown nose stopped guarding the bathroom door.

People ask me how I am doing. And Ruby, I want you to know that I am okay.

The grief is still here, of course, but it has softened into something that feels less like a weight and more like a promise. It sits quietly in my chest, a bone-deep reminder of the grace you left behind.

The truth is, I know I don’t really need to write this to you. I don’t need to tell you that I’m surviving or how deeply you impacted my life, because I already know you haven’t truly left me. I feel you in the stillness of the mornings, in the gentle rhythm of the sanctuary and in the moments I choose kindness when the world feels less deserving of it.

You are right here, curled at the edges of my heart just as I still find your red fur in the oddest of places; under the mattress, above the mirror, on my clothes and even in the car. Always the car, though that one should come as no surprise as rarely did I drive anywhere without you, my wing-girl.

Perhaps I am writing this more for me. Perhaps my human heart just needs to speak your name into the quiet, to remind myself of the lessons you whole-heartedly spent fourteen years teaching.

You showed not just me, but the world, how to forgive, how to love unconditionally and how to find a simple heaven in a world that can sometimes be so brutal. You took a life that started with violence and turned it into a masterclass in compassion.

I promised you I wouldn’t cry when the light faded, and on that score I have been pretty good though a few tears are falling now. They are happy tears, Ruby. They are tears of immense gratitude that out of all the legs in the world, you chose to lean into mine.

Thank you for making me whole. Thank you for staying and never truly leaving. And for a dog who had so many reasons not to trust our kind, you trusted me. And that will never be lost on me.

Not ever.

Please give that handsome big pink pig a nudge for me, go bound through those endless green paddocks, hang out with those piglets and lambies you adore and know that down here, the Lady in the Hat is still carrying both of your missions forward.

I am okay, my beautiful girl. Because love doesn’t walk away when the light fades, it just leans in closer.

Forever your Lady in the Hat.