Three years ago, I received an e-mail from songwriter Jayne Olderman, who had just recently seen The National Geographic's piece on my and Sonntag's 2000 journey to Alaska. Inspired by the photo of me burying my head in Sonntag's fur after he had just been put down, she wrote a beautify song (Let Your Heart Be Broken) about grieving the loss of a loved one. (You can hear that song on YouTube here.) I had intentionally not listened to the song over the last three weeks because I wanted to grieve Leben on my own. Thinking that the worst of my grief was over, I listened to the song today for the first time and discovered that the worst of my grief is not over. When I first heard the song three years ago, 10 years after Sonntag's death (11 years after Kessie's), the words were moving for me. But listening to them now and understating the depth of my recent loss of Leben, the words moved only tears, every word. My guess is that at the end of each day on this trip, I will play that song to keep the memory and feeling of Leben with us on the trip as I try to record my thoughts about my two dogs for a book I may write about our journeys together.
Although I hope to keep Leben's memory alive on this trip, at whatever cost in emotions to me, the trip is for Erde. Leben is gone. I know that. Erde is the one left behind. If Leben had had a choice, he would have wanted Erde to go first so she would not be the one left behind. He was so deferential to his sister their entire lives together. Oh, sure, they had their scrapes over toys. Erde always wanted the toy or rawhide bone that Leben had, and often it was the other way around. I was frequently called in to referee the match, and I tried to be fair. Neither dog was my favorite. I viewed them as a team and am proud of the fact that I never favored one over the other. But Leben's job was to watch over me, and Erde's to guard the periphery of wherever we were, so I felt Leben's presence more than Erde's. But now, Erde is alone so I have to take on the job of being not only her guardian, but her older brother. I pray that I am able to carry these roles out for this fun-loving, magnificent dog.
When I journeyed to Alaska with Sonntag in 2000, every day my thoughts went out to Kessie, Sonntag's sister who died in 1999. The only regret I had for that trip was that Kessie was not there with us, except in my heart. I do not want to diminish the trip this year for Erde, because it is her trip, so I will hold off on expressing any such regrets this year until it ends. Perhaps I won't regret it at all since Leben's death is so close that his presence will probably be felt.
I cannot imagine that I will ever take a road-camping trip in the future without my dogs. I have never taken one yet in the more than 62,500 miles and 292 days and nights of my six trips so far. The dogs are not only the reason for the trips, but they are the centerpiece for them while we are on them. So it is possible that this could be my last road trip ever, but I am not thinking of that now. Who knows, Erde might surprise me and still be here next year at this time, and if so, we will set out again for some roads already traveled or not traveled by us.
ED
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