I was unaware of how lonely she had become. Not at all.
I called her once a week after Dad’s death. I went when I could. I sent her the strange jams she like from the farmer’s market, knitted socks, and puzzles. That seemed plenty to me. She sounded fine, so I persuaded myself she was doing fine.
Then, when I returned home for the weekend, I noticed her sitting on the porch with a dog that I didn’t recognize—a large, ungainly St. Bernard that was drooling and fluffy. Her expression was one of calm, perhaps, and she had one hand on his back while the other held her tea. Or something like that. As if it had been a while since she had felt fully seen.
“Oh, this is Murphy,” she said. While Mark is away from town, I have been keeping an eye on him.
I found that endearing until I discovered Murphy wasn’t only a guest. Her shadow was him. He went from room to room after her. stood outside the restroom, waiting. At dinner, she sat near her chair. He waved his tail as if he had accomplished something spectacular as she laughed. And, as if he knew, he would put his head on her lap when she became quiet—when the grief began to seep in, like it always does.
How long had she been observing him, I asked her? “Oh, just a few days,” she said. However, I noticed how her gaze followed him around, like if she were anticipating something.
Mark returned, and Murphy was thrilled. He raced in circles and barked. However, Mom… Mom remained in bed. She simply sat there with her eyes glazed and her hands folded tightly. As if she were relinquishing something she was unaware she required.
Mark clipped the leash, and Murphy hesitated. flipped around. He gave her a look that suggested he didn’t comprehend.
At that point, I came to a choice that she is still unaware of.
I got up early in the morning. Aside from the slight hum of the coffee maker in the kitchen, the home was still. I sneaked out with my phone since Mom wasn’t up yet. I discovered Mark packing his car with bags. Despite his apparent astonishment at seeing me, he grinned broadly.
He said, “Hey, Clara.” “How is your mother?”
I hesitated before explaining why I was actually there, but I finally said, “She’s… hanging in there.” “Hey, Mark, could we just take a moment to discuss Murphy?”
He nodded, his smile faltering a little. Yes. What’s going on?
I inhaled deeply. I observed how much Mom enjoys his company. You know, it’s as if he fills a void for her. She needs him more than either of us knew, in my opinion.
Mark scratched the back of his neck and scowled. “I understand your point, but Murphy is a friend of mine. I also consider him family. Furthermore, he requires a lot of care as a pet.
“I know,” I blurted out. “I’m not requesting that you permanently give him away. Just—perhaps think about sharing him? For example, dividing his time between the two homes? In this manner, you still have him available anytime you need him, and Mom receives the company she obviously needs.
After giving me a long look, Mark exhaled slowly. “You’re correct. It’s true that your mother seems different around him. Somehow happier. Please give it some thought.
I thanked him and went back inside, relieved. Upon entering, I saw Mom seated at the dining table, gazing out the window where Murphy had been moments before. Her look, which was a mixture of resignation and longing, crushed my heart.
I made the decision to drive her that afternoon. We finally arrived at the park, where we strolled along the paths while the leaves crunched beneath our feet. She talked about how difficult it had been since Dad passed away for the first time in years. Without him, the house felt so empty. How having someone—or something—to share everyday life with was more important to her than my calls and visits, even if she still valued them.
By the time we got home, I was certain that speaking with Mark had been the proper decision. Nevertheless, I remained silent about it, hoping that nothing would come of it.
Mark appeared unexpectedly a few days later, Murphy trotting contentedly at his side. As I saw Mom pause in mid-step, her eyes widening in shock, my heart leaped.
Mark gently handed up the leash and remarked, “Clara mentioned you two seemed pretty attached.” I reasoned that perhaps Murphy might divide his time between us. Of sure, if that suits you.
Mom was unable to talk for a moment. She then drew him into an embrace as tears filled her eyes. “Thank you,” she said in a raspy tone. “Thank you very much.”
Everything changed after that day. Slowly but gradually, Mom was getting better. She began going for walks, interacting with neighbors, and even working at the neighborhood animal shelter while Murphy was by her side. She made larger meals (“for Murphy,” she said), laughed more frequently, and even hosted friends for game nights.
However, this is where things become complicated: Mark suddenly dropped by a few months later, this time without Murphy. He slipped into our couch, his shoulders hunched.
“What’s the matter?” Mom inquired, immediately worried.
He let out a deep sigh. “Last week, I lost my job. Due to their downsizing, I may soon have to relocate. I’m not sure how much longer I can afford to stay here, and the rent is getting out of control.
Mom looked at Mark, then at me. A beat later, she spoke quietly. “You are welcome to stay with us if you need a temporary place to crash. The guest room is available to us.
Mark blinked in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“Obviously,” she stated firmly. “You’ve been a wonderful friend and neighbor to us. The least we can do is this.
Over the course of the following weeks, a peculiar rhythm emerged. Mark remained in the guest room, joining us for meals and assisting with housework. Murphy became the glue that held us all together since he was so happy to have everyone in one place. More often than not, there was laughter in the house, and Mark gradually began talking about his difficulties. Mom then related stories about Dad that she hadn’t discussed in a long time.
Mark flashed a smile one evening when we were playing cards around the fireplace. He said, “You know, I never expected this.” But really? It feels like family here.
I realized then that none of us knew how to fill the vacuum created by Dad’s passing. However, we had developed something new rather than attempting to replace him. Something lovely but unexpected.
Months became a year. Mark decided to stay with us even though he found a new job nearby. The three of us (together with Murphy) created a life that nobody of us could have ever dreamed of. Although grief persisted and became softer, it no longer characterized us.
Ultimately, I discovered that love had no boundaries. When someone leaves, it doesn’t run out or disappear. Rather, it changes, discovering new ways to bind us to memories, to one another, and occasionally to strangers who end up becoming family.
Therefore, dear reader, if you have ever been trapped in a state of loss, keep in mind that mending isn’t about putting things back where they’ve gone. It’s about being receptive to the possibilities. If this story touched you, please share it. Let’s remind ourselves and others that there is always hope. 