Thadius Dirk Holstein
Nov 1 2000 – Aug 16 2017
I miss you more today than I did yesterday. I’ll miss you more tomorrow than I did today.
You understood things so much better than the world gives credit. You knew when I was down, you knew when I was happy. You knew when it was time for me to rush out the door on some sort of emergency and you were ALWAYS happy to see me, no matter what.
You were there many times when no one else was. You were there through the worst times of my life, until this worst time of my life.
You listened better than anyone. You cheered me up with a wag of your tail. You kept me up, you put me to bed. You gave me comfort with just your presence. You were a reason to get out of that bed, to go to work, to come home. I needed you as much as you needed me.
There may never come a time in my life when the pain goes away.
I will spend a little time each day thinking of you, and I hope that never ends.
I will be with you graveside, every now and then. I want to talk to you, to tell you how things are going. I want to hold you one more time, but I can’t.
For several of the years I spent with you, you were my entire world. My life was better, because of you. Like me, you cautiously selected your friends. Of those, only a couple did you care for almost as much as you loved me. I was the only one in your life that didn’t feel the sharp sting of your anger. You were special and I knew how to read your every move, that’s what best friends do, they know each other like no one else can.
As contrary as you could be, the folks around me, the folks that have accepted me as one of their own, accepted you and loved you, because I loved you. They knew how special you were to me, how special you will always be to me.
Now you’re gone, and I’m left here to carry on.
A piece of me died with you, and I am afraid that I will heal. I don’t ever want to forget you, a special gift that God granted me – the time spent with you.
I woke this morning, and like every morning, wanting to check on you, to make sure you were alright, but this morning was different, it then hit me: You’re gone. You were not in the bed. You’re not with mom. You’re not in the kitchen, you didn’t already get up and go outside. You were gone.
You’re no longer in pain. Your dignity has returned. You were proud and deserved to go out peacefully, without embarrassment, in the comfort of your mom and dad and that’s what we granted you.
I love you Dirk Dog and I will miss you forever. My special boy, my bubby.