Earlier this year, I decided to create a video book trailer for my new book, Thank You For Loving Me.
I thought it could be a helpful way to introduce the book I wrote for people grieving the loss of an animal. Unfortunately, I have no talent or ability to create something like that, but thankfully, one of my son’s best friends (Nick) is incredibly talented with such things, so I reached out to him.
We had originally planned to start filming in early summer, interviewing several people about their experience with grief and how they are continuing to honor the love they shared with their pet. We also planned to film a variety of animals to make it clear that the book honors the loss of any and all animals.
But then life happened (as it tends to do) and we had to push filming out a few months. With the book now releasing in mere weeks, we had to pivot from our original plan. My dog, Gracie, suddenly became the subject of the trailer, and instead of interviewing other people about their experience with grief, I would read excerpts from the book.
The first day of filming happened just before my birthday. My son was home and offered to be the Gracie wrangler. Gracie adored Andrew. Seriously, my sweet girl was obsessed with him, and she was having the time of her life. Playing with Andrew (who had a pocket full of treats for her), running outside, and being told over and over what a good girl she was…Gracie had a really, really good day. I saw some footage from that first day, and it was perfect!
The second day of filming happened on a Thursday—two weeks after my birthday. Three days before we would lose our beloved girl. Of course, I had no idea what was coming. In fact, that’s something we’ve learned about the type of cancer Gracie had. Most of the time there are no symptoms until it’s too late.
Gracie was so happy to film again. Her tail wagged like a metronome marking joy’s tempo. Her lips were spread in her classic Gracie smile. She was the embodiment of joy.
We started the session recording my voice-over. I had written a script using lines from the book. We recorded several takes. I said the lines over and over again, forever committing them to memory.
The words were poignant and heartfelt. I felt them as much as I said them.
I had no idea they would become Gracie’s last words to me.
We went outside to film. I had a pocket full of treats and Gracie right beside me.
Gracie and I had a quieter relationship than she and Andrew.
He was her party. I was her safe place.
As the sun touched the tops of the trees, I held my girl’s paw.
I rubbed her head.
I asked her to sit and watch me from afar.
I knelt beside her and told her how much I loved her.
I looked in her eyes, and I felt her tell me the same.
Other than the 97 mosquito bites Nick and I received during filming, it was an absolutely beautiful evening.
Forty-eight hours later, Nick sent the finished video for me to review. As I hit play, Gracie was where she usually was—right by my side. I rubbed her head with my left hand as I watched the completed video. It was perfect. It was touching. My hand stilled on Gracie as a painful awareness reverberated throughout my body—someday I will have to watch this without her pressed against my leg.
I got on the floor next to my girl and held her. She was always so gracious in the way she let me cling to her. I thanked her. I told her I needed her to stay with me for a long, long time.
Twelve hours later, she was gone.
It has been one month since I last hugged her.
30 days since I kissed her nose for the last time.
31 days since I watched the video for the first time with her by my side.
8 days since I watched it by myself.
I didn’t think I would ever watch it again—I didn’t think I could.
But a week ago I found myself sitting in the same spot where I first watched it with her. And I heard the echo of Gracie speaking through my voice, saying, “I know I’m not there with you like I used to be. But whenever you need me, I will meet you here, in these pages, and in the love and memories you carry with you.”
I hit play.
I thought I would fall apart;
Instead, love slowly began to knit my heart back together.
This isn’t the video I planned.
But it is the exact video God (and Gracie) knew I would need.
I will spend the rest of my life pondering the sacredness of those last few days with my sweet girl. Reflecting on the things that had to happen for this video to exist as it does continues to leave me breathless.
The fact that I have this footage is gift enough.
The knowledge that I was speaking my beautiful girl’s last words to me is…I don’t have words for how that feels.
That I was able to watch her video for the first time with her beside me is beyond sacred.
I can no longer see Gracie by my side. I can no longer feel her weight pressed against me. And that hurts. It hurts so very much. And yet, she is still here... In the lessons she taught me; in the love that forever changed me; in the quiet, subtle ways she made my life better.
Every single day, Gracie reflected the loyal, constant love of the one who sent her to me.
She showed me the healing power of love and of presence.
She taught me to stay close to those I love; to keep my eyes fixed on the one who loves me; and to unashamedly choose joy and hope.
Those are gifts that I will carry with me forever.
She is gone from my side, but she is forever etched in my heart.
Grief is deep.
Love is deeper still.
Jen
I wanted to share Gracie's video with you. This will forever be one of my most sacred gifts. I hope it touches your heart too.
