I miss Murdock. Every day, every hour, I miss my boy. But . . . I miss me, too.

I have never been a nurturer. I was not blessed with an abundance of patience. I am an independent spirit, perfectly content on my own, the only driver on my journey through life. My analytical brain is always at work and most comfortable when tackling complex questions or ordering my world. Simplicity was something I always marveled at, but never dared to aspire to – it just didn’t fit the me that I knew. 

Being Murdock’s mom changed everything. Having him in my life made me a person I did not recognize, and I suspect, those close to me were surprised to meet. And now, I miss her.

Having a creature who relies on you for everything surely changes a person. And when that soul is the love of your life, you don’t give it a second thought. I walked Murdock twice a day, even in the rain, snow and freezing cold. I made sure his supplements were added into every bowl of food. I made up games to satisfy his smart and curious nature. I talked to him incessantly. I sang songs to him, re-writing the lyrics to add his name. When I was away from him, my thoughts were always on how quickly I could get back. I studied him, making note of even the slightest limp, or change in habit that may merit a trip to the vet. Murdock could do no wrong, and even when he did, I had to rely on my acting skills so he would think I was angry.  (I am not sure he ever bought it.) My patience for him was endless. I became the caretaker I never thought I could be. My life was not my own, and it was more full than it had ever been. 

There was nothing I loved more than walking behind Murdock watching his ears bounce. Or sitting in my yard reading a book while he snoozed. Or sharing ice cream on a Saturday night. Or dancing in my living room to entertain him, while he sighed and looked annoyed. My mind did not have to be at work – it could just be. The simplicity was perfect. 

When Murdock left, that other me left too. There is no center of my world. No one depends on me. There is no one to melt my impatience with just a look.  There is no one to sing to.

I suppose that the deepest lessons, the ones we are meant to learn, don’t ever really disappear. I still love to sit in my yard on a summer day. I go for long walks. I have ice cream on Saturday nights. 

I look back at the person I was when Murdock was here, and I marvel that that was really me. I guess that is what love does – makes us the very best version of ourselves, if even for a short time. I miss that person. And I am so very proud that she was me.