Seriously, it's been two years, Get over it already!

It floors me really, that after two years, I am still not over the death of Barron.  I can break down with chest heaving sobs if I ever let myself really think about that dog.  That wonderful, sneaky dog. 
Since his death, I have done some spiritual activities.  Not because of his death, this is just how it worked out.  Anyway, in this spiritual endeavor, I really examined my relationship with God, where it was now and where it had been.  It had been in a pretty bad place several years ago, like, God, you suck kind of bad.  I really wanted nothing to do with Him.  Time gave me some perspective and I came to see that in those dark days, I absolutely hated myself.  It was easier to project that hate onto God.  He has really big shoulders, I figure He could take it.  And He did.  He let me work it all out without any undue pressure from Him.  Man, that God is a smart one.  Took me a few years to figure it all out. 
In the dark days of ought four, I probably, (not probably,) should have been seeking professional help.  I was there, you know, that place that is so hard to come back from because one simple act of desperation makes it permanent.  I wonder now, who knew.  Who saw this little girl on the top of the slide?  I think a few people knew, but no one knew how to catch me and even if they tried, they ran the risk of being kicked in the gut as a flew down. 
Hate is such a horrible way to feel about oneself.  But it happens, quite a lot.  Hating God is a bi product of that feeling, I think.  Or maybe it was the other way around.  Either way...
But Barron, he didn't hate me.  He couldn't.  It wasn't in his bones.  I can't think of too many things he did hate.  Puppies laying on him.  Us leaving him.  Me, hating myself. 
I think I miss him so much now for a number of reasons.  Barron was a great dog that liked to swim and play fetch and chase bunnies.  He would go on walks with me and hang out with me, putting his big head on my feet or in my lap.  He would seek me out when I was so dark and he would let me know that I wasn't alone.  It is hard to feel alone when the sheer weight of him pressed against me would nearly know me over.
I don't know if he saved my life that day.  I will never know what was in the works because the Lord works in mysterious ways.  Taking off the wings of an angel and putting on the most luscious vanilla coat to disguise His love for me.  I would give my scarred right arm to have my dog back.  Really I would.  He was some of the best of me. 
The moment that I realized, really truly realized that it was all God's doing that day- that Barron was an instrument of His peace- was so overwhelming.  We Catholics, we like our saints and angels.  I just didn't know that one could wear a fur coat.