Maya

We put Maya to sleep today. She was in so much pain and just wasn't herself anymore. She cried and moaned all day long, ate very little and snapped at Brennan when he accidentally fell on her. It was something we had to do, but it is still something so very difficult and sad.

Maya was a part of our family. Before children, she was my constant companion. We took walks together every day - sometimes twice a day. When we lived in Connecticut, our favorite thing to do was wake up early and walk to the beach. Maya would run wild on the sand, chasing seagulls and jumping into the water to swim.

Maya helped me survive the summer when Chris had to go to Colorado for two months for a fantastic opportunity to work with IBM. She kept me company and helped me survive the loneliness.

While we miss her, the hardest part of losing Maya is dealing with the loss through the hearts of our children. Aidan just sobbed when Chris told him Maya had died and was in doggie heaven. Brennan asks several times a day, "Where'd my doggie go? Where's Maya?". The navigation of parenthood is never easy, but explaining death and loss to a two and four year old is almost impossible. But we try. We talk openly about the loss to both boys. We framed pictures of Aidan with Maya for his room. And we just listen to their questions and fears, hoping that we are giving the "right" answers at least part of the time.

We described doggie heaven as a place where Maya could run free chasing birds, barking to her heart's content, and eating all the treats she wanted. That's how we all will remember her.