For the last fourteen years Osho, my Yorkshire terrier has been my constant companion. On Tuesday morning I woke up and my precious Osho had died during the night. I know he was old and have known for years that we were on borrowed time but none of that has gone any way to removing that visual of my dearest little man’s lifeless eyes facing me as I slept. Days later my grief has not subsided and from nowhere I feel the howls of a madwoman coming from the bowels of my being.
I named Osho after the spiritual leader and today I understand that Osho was love to me. He gave me his love without conditions and judgements. He accepted my love with appreciation and his undying devotion. Osho and I have travelled together, moved houses together, endured divorces together and have just been there for each other. When I got out the car he knew it was time to wait and he moved to the passenger seat. Every time I would say the same thing, “OK Osh, I won’t be long” and every time I got back into the car he was happy to see me. In the morning I saved the last bit of my coffee for Osho. We had our coffee together every morning and tea during the day for fourteen years. How does one have tea on your own after all those years? Every night I talked to him about dinner. “What do you feel like for dinner Osh?” and every night he reminded me how similar we were in our particular tastes.
I have become aware that Osho was the reason I wasn’t lonely. I talked to him all day. “What do you think of this haircut Osh? Don’t go far Osho, a bear has been at the trash and I don’t know where he is now. Are you cold Osh? Are you hungry Osh?” It isn’t just the talking though – it’s knowing that every second of every day you are loved. I was his beloved. As long as I drew breath Osho was happy and that was his gift to me. I never had to fight for his love or earn it. I could do no wrong in Osho’s eyes.
Towards the end, the ebb and flow of my days have been about caring for him and it has been a privilege to be of service to my dearest friend. Sue once told me that she thinks that at every funeral there should be at least one person who is totally bereft – I am that person. I am heartbroken as I plan to leave the Berkshires without him. Every ending in my life has been fraught and embattled and embittered. As a result I have no experience in yearning for the loss of a loved one. I had no idea what pure and raw yearning felt like until I lost Osho. I have some idea now what it is like to lose some-one you love deeply, with whom you have been happy. I understand how completely adrift one is.
I am writing this blog because he was a dog and there was no funeral and no memorial service. I cannot allow him to leave this earth without the respect and acknowledgment that is his due. I cannot stand the silence that he has left behind and my silence about him. I need to publicly thank Osho for being my home. As long as he was in my life I had a reason to get up and attend to him and care that he was waiting for me. As long as he was there I was Ok and we would cope. Thank you my darling Osho and know that I will hold you in my heart all the way to my grave. I know that you stayed as long as you could and that you fought to stay because I needed you as much as you needed me.
I leave to our birthplace soon but this time I must go without you and my heart aches every minute of every day. Thank you Osho for your undying love and devotion. It has anchored me as I am sure you know. Today I am in agony for the loss of you but maybe one day I can say your name without tears in my eyes.