The Process of Acceptance: a tribute to Capone “Mooshi” Redfoot

A year ago today my dad drove all the way up to Charlotte to tell me you were gone.

I was slightly hungover, slowly yet excitedly packing to travel to western NC for the eclipse.

I heard an unexpected knock at my door, took one look at my dad’s speechless face and knew something was horribly wrong.

You had successfully undergone your third surgery the day prior, but suffered from a post-operative infection.

I of course broke down, but after some time crying together, my dad convinced me to stick with my plans to travel for the eclipse.

It was during that four-hour drive that I began to process your death. And every day for the last 365 of them, that’s exactly what it’s been…a process.

Because it wasn’t just losing you that I was processing.

It was feelings surrounding how unfair life can be.

It was anger about your death, and the reasons why that ultimately came to be.

Because you weren’t taken care of for most of your life. Because people can be literal pieces of shit.

It was frustration over many people that consoled me, who had had their pets for their whole lives, claiming that they understood what I was going through. After all I had you for less than a year and a half.

It was bitterness, and thus, more frustration toward myself for not simply being grateful. Grateful for the time I had with you. Grateful for those people who were there for me.

So in many ways, your death has gradually become about acceptance.

A process of acceptance.

There’s no denying the magnitude of growth that’s occurred within every single member of my family since your passing.

I personally have become significantly more mindful in regards to appreciating people and moments while they are here.

My parents have rescued two more bullie babies (well um, not exactly babies) from Bullies to the Rescue since your passing.

It is evident that this last year has been filled with love and blessings in abundance.

But the other night as I lie on my yoga mat during a deep stretch class, I unexpectedly began to think about you.

As tears fell onto my bolster, I began to understand your passing more clearly than ever before.

Because if there is one thing that prevails beyond the logic of all that life has blessed us with in the last year, it is this perpetual feeling of joy.

The pure joy that you are emanating from wherever you may be.

Whether or not heaven or the rainbow bridge exist, your energy still does.

And tapping into that, allows me to not only understand but appreciate the cyclical nature of life. The circle of life.

And so to reference Rumi, theologian, poet and scholar, though I may grieve, I know that what I have lost has come back around to me in some form.

In the form of Squishy and of Lil Jim. In the form of learning mindfulness to better appreciate the present moment. And finally, in the form of acceptance.

Capone…with love and light, I honor and remember your presence, though it has taken on another form, it is just as prevalent as my love for you is strong.

I miss you all ways always, Moo Moo.

Love,
Mommy

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