loving and letting go

in memory of lola / on the passage of time

Henry Stuart

Before I left home in January I said my goodbye to my dog of 15 years, Lola, because I knew it would be her last year. She passed last night. Lola was a presence of true sweetness and lightness. In life we come across many companions who will help us on our journeys, will accompany us through change. Some stay for longer than others. I once read somewhere, what is grief, if not love persevering?

The passage of time is swift. I’d like to think everyone in my life will be here forever. I think often if I could just keep this moment with me, if I could freeze it, I would. The deep russets and greens and subterranean blues of the landscape, the bend of midnight that feels like it’ll stretch on forever. The gentle smattering of light across the face of someone I care for. The curve of your cheek, your laugh. The dinners, the conversations, the childhood homes, the interiors warm and orange-hued, soft and familiar, the bodies of water, the forests.

I used to wake up and see Lola every day. Padding quietly through rooms. Her body curled, sleeping. She adored the furry carpet and was enamored by piano melodies. She was an intelligent creature, with a perceptive look that made you feel like she somehow understood what you were saying. When you cried she would sense sorrow and press her small nose against your leg as if to say I’m here.

If you truly love something, you can never lose it. It contains a deep, mysterious, continuity. You feel it reverberate across many different areas. In the crevices of everything you touch.

When we’re young we are not adept at noticing that time passes and we never get it back. Perhaps we even refuse to believe that the people and companions we love age and morph. The frequency and total time we spend with our loved ones shrink as we pursue our own dreams. Nowadays I can’t stop noticing how each moment is precious, each possible extension of time is is a miracle. When I’m in it: eating or laughing or talking or simply being silent together, I feel the immensity of it. To be seen is to be loved. To be loved is to be transformed by it.

We must pay close attention to what we have when we have it. And not take it for granted. You can’t hold onto anything forever. Does that make you appreciate the small things more? Look at everything again slowly. Turn it over in your hands. Hold space for gratitude. In the briefness of its flame, in the elegance of its transit. In love, in life.

for lola 🤍

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A personal note: I stayed up last night writing this post about Lola, and more broadly about gratitude of our loved ones, until very early and I heard the garbage trucks rolling in. Writing helps me process these emotions. Perhaps this piece is not fully articulate, but I do want to share Lola’s memory with you in its most present form.

I encourage you to read this post on wait but why; the tail end

Priorities matter. Your remaining face time with any person depends largely on where that person falls on your list of life priorities. Make sure this list is set by you—not by unconscious inertia.

Quality time matters. If you’re in your last 10% of time with someone you love, keep that fact in the front of your mind when you’re with them and treat that time as what it actually is: precious.

The love between a human and their pet is completely uncomplicated.

There are no interpersonal dynamics to worry about. It's one of the few relationships in life that you can express your love freely and without self consciousness. And that's also why it hurts so much when they are gone

A comment by Stephanie on Haley Nahman’s post about her pet passing

Men go through life telling themselves a moment must come when they will show what they’re made of. And the moment comes. And they do show. And then they spend the rest of their days explaining that it was neither the moment or the true self.

— from Transit of Venus by Shirley Hazzard