Western Promenade, Portland, Maine
On August 30th my husband and I loaded what little personal belongings we had into a moving van and drove more than 600 miles south along the East Coast. I have been struggling in the incapable quicksand of depression since the loss of my best friend, Duke, and believe that a drastic change of environment might help redirect my life into a more positive direction. For the last year and a half, it had become horribly bitter sweet living in the same apartment and city that Duke and I spent the best years of our lives together in when he was no longer there.
Making Duke some soup when he wasn't feeling well.
There was a spot in my apartment, right next to the front door where Duke laid when he waited for me to get home from work. He laid there so much that his collar left a mark on the wall. I had to walk by that spot everyday and the happy memory of him barking with excitement and wagging his tail when I got home started to be replaced by a hollow and empty loneliness.
Meeko and Duke being best friends.
The Western Promenade was a place that I never could work up the courage to visit since he passed away. The last Spring that we spent together, my Dad helped me outfit a bike to carry Duke along with me on rides. He used to run along side my bike in his younger days, but now with his age and arthritis he needed away to come along on adventures comfortably. He adjusted to riding on the bike almost instantly and loved taking trips through the West End and along the trails at the Promenade. He would bark at dogs as we zoomed past as if to taunt them for not having a carriage and having to walk. 😆 We went on bike rides everyday and it become our favorite thing in the world.
The day that Duke had to be put down we drove him to the Promenade so that he could sit under a tree and enjoy the park one last time even if he was unable to ride in the bike or walk around. We sat under that tree together and said goodbye, it was horrible because he was so happy and having a good time. Mentally he was still himself, his body just couldn't continue to go on. I was never able to return to that tree and avoided it adamantly until the day I left Maine.
Duke used to love running at full speed next to my bike.
I started to feel as if many of my happy memories in Portland, Maine had begun to shift into sad and empty ones. I want to remember the good times that Duke and I spent in the city, I do not want all of them to be spoiled because of my sadness and because of this I have decided to move away and restart my life.
Duke and me exploring the woods in Casco, Maine.
I will never forget Duke and all of the times he was there for me and we went on adventures together in Maine but I feel that if I have to leave that place and part of my life behind in order to preserve them in my mind. With this decision being a glimmer of hope in my darkened world I donated the majority of my belongings and prepared to move for the first time in 8 years.
My Dad helping Duke and me move into our first apartment in Portland, Maine in 2011.
Leaving Maine was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. My mind still flip flops on whether it was the right decision, and I feel homesick often, although this homesickness is a yearning for the life I once had with my friend and the person I was in that moment, it isn't necessarily for the city of Portland. I am trying as hard as I can to move on even though I resist it at every chance I can and its the last thing that I want. I would do anything to go back in time but I know that that isn't a possibility in our reality so I have no choice but to move forward.
We used to make a day out of exploring the woods.
I know this post is sad and different from what I normally post. I wrote this because I think it is important to be open and transparent about the bad things that happen to you in life and not just the good things. No one is happy all of the time and many people don't talk about their struggles and personal tragedies online because it breaks whatever perfect image they have tried to cultivate. I'm not perfect and neither is anyone else.
I know a lot of other people have dealt with grief and the loss of a family member and I think its a really important part of life that shouldn't be kept secret or stuffed deep inside.
I'm trying as hard as I can to become a better person and continue to live my life that way that Duke would have wanted but that doesn't mean that it isn't hard or even close to impossible some days. There isn't a set amount of time before you just get over it or even a list of things you can do to get better, it's different for everyone and I'd like to think that writing this and opening up about it has helped me some.
🖤Annie