Bacon. Honestly one of the reasons I get out of bed on the weekends, hangover or not. This amazing piece of meat, from the belly of a pig makes me happy. But just don't give me crap bacon. You can find amazing bacon for cheap. I still walk by the prepackaged aisle of bacon at the grocery store and shudder- who pays 14$ for less than a pound of bacon?!
Bacon, for me is more than just a major food group (and possibly a source of my Dad Bod). It's about tradition. It's about my kids going to bed Friday night saying they are looking forward to helping me make breakfast tomorrow and (whispering in my ear...) BACON! Knowing that my kids are learning the value of spending time together gathering around something of importance goes way beyond peppered or applewood smoked.
I hope that, in some small part, the consumption of bacon on the weekends leads to my kids one day leading the same charge with their clan. Whether that is sweetrolls, kale smoothies, or drum circles. You have to bring something to the table for which the family can gather round. And that, above all, is why I love me some bacon.
Rough first post. But death is damn hard. Especially with some young kids. My wife and I just had to put down our beloved dog Chip. Chipford Beaumont McGee to be exact. A gentleman in his own right and nothing but full of love for anyone who would offer him some attention. I miss him so much. There is nothing like the hole in the home when that familiar nose and predictable nail-click on the floor is gone.
I still think I see him moving around and there is this weird up/down feeling I get. He will always be here, but damn- this wasn't how I saw this ending.
Cancer got him. Lymphoma. With treatment we got 9 more months. In the last month his front paw went lame (nerve issue, likely due to cancer) and his breathing became shorter. Yesterday it was just too much. We took him in and gave him our last love.
I've had animals die on me. But up until this point, I never had to be there at the moment of expiration. Yesterday was different. As the adult now, I sat there, cradling this poor animal who had given nothing but all of himself slowly slip away, his breathing slowing to a stop and then his heart fading. It was so peaceful. But it was so hard. We knew this was happening eventually, but when the time came down, letting go of your best little buddy who was there before your wife, your kids, and your profession is not easy. I felt guilty-like I gave him the cancer. Like I was the one at fault because he couldn't live forever. The hardest part? Walking away from a lifeless body on the floor- like giving up. How did my parents do this? Why did I have no expectations of how I would handle this.
I know there was nothing I could do. But it doesn't change my feelings.
And that doesn't even start to bring up the fact that I can't explain to the kiddos why Chip-Dog didn't come home with me. Or why my eyes were so red.
This isn't over and seems like it will only get harder before it gets easier. When is the acceptance phase?