In Jewish tradition, about eleven months after a funeral you have an unveiling, where you finally put up the permanent headstone at the gravesite, with a small ceremony to mark the end of the official mourning period. The unveiling is actually supposed to take place after thirty days (for most relatives) and after eleven months (for a parent), but in the United States most unveilings take place after eleven months no matter how close the relationship with the dead.
We have two blue gift bags sitting on the low bookcase (where we used to keep the chicken treats), each holding a sympathy card from the vet’s office and a container of ashes: Cricket died in October 2023, and Ellie died in December, two very short months later. My hope was that, after eleven months, I would finally be ready to spread Cricket’s ashes around the base of the paw paw tree (which was born just a few months before Cricket herself), but I wasn’t ready. And even now, after the yahrzeit (literally “year time,” the anniversary of her death), I’m still not ready.
The one thing I felt ready to do, though, was to mark Cricket’s yahrzeit with light. Of course, I didn’t think ahead and buy an official yahrzeit candle (a twenty-four-hour candle in protective glass), but Mom found two leftover beeswax candles from last Chanukah, and we placed them in a jar in front of Cricket’s picture and watched the flames burn down. I really wanted the two candles to intertwine in some way, to represent how Cricket is still so intertwined in our lives, but the way the two candles split apart and seemed to mimic her flying ears was a wonderful surprise.
Maybe when we reach the anniversary of Ellie’s death, in December, I’ll feel more ready to let go of both of them, or maybe not. I’m trying to be patient with myself and to trust my feelings to tell me what I can handle and what I can’t, because I miss them both so much. I don’t just miss having “a dog” in my house, but these two particular dogs. They are still knotted up in my life and my thoughts, as if there’s more they need to teach me.
In a strange symmetry, the pawpaw tree seems to also be in mourning this year. Early in the summer, we were thrilled to find out that, despite some of the lower branches being cut off by the gardeners (again!), we still had four pawpaws growing on our tree. We were hopeful that this year would yield the biggest, healthiest fruit yet, and so we decided to wait as long as possible before picking them, to give them time to fully ripen. But we waited too long. One day in September, when I looked up at the pawpaw tree, I couldn’t find any of the pawpaws. I was used to struggling to see one or two of them, behind those big green leaves, so I told myself I’d just try again later. But when I checked again, and then a third time, there were no pawpaws visible on the tree, and then I checked the ground and found what looked like two small carcasses with their guts spilling out. I looked away automatically, thinking some horrible death had come to two tiny birds, but when I forced myself to look back I realized they really were the pawpaws, or two of them anyway.
I didn’t cry. I mean, they’re just fruit, right? Just because they are vivid symbols of love, and now of my dogs in particular, doesn’t mean they are, or were, truly alive. Right?
I never found the other two pawpaws. My hope is that the squirrels (it’s always the squirrels) actually enjoyed the other two pieces of fruit and they didn’t all go to waste.
In a way, having a fruitless year, or at least a year without pawpaws, is fitting. The loss of the dogs, and the grief and anger and fear and confusion around the war in Israel cries out for some kind of symbolism; some kind of acknowledgment that everything is not okay. Its kind of like when you’re feeling awful and the sky breaks open and the rain pours. It almost helps, in a way.
Maybe next year, our pawpaw tree will be full of fruit and we will have more than enough to share with all of our woodland creatures. And, hopefully before then, we will also find a new dog ready to come home with us and start on a whole new adventure together. But in the meantime, the mourning cotinues.
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rachelmankowitz 
The candles picture is touching and cute. It’s OK or us to mourn the loss of a loved one for as long as necessary. Both dogs’ absence has left a profound vacancy in your heart. Be well.
Thank you!
I still have my dogs and cats ashes. I can’t spread them, Rachel. The dogs have been gone longer than the cats. They sit in my closet along with the cards from the vets. For me, it is a small comfort that they are still there with me. There is no rush.
I wish there were more in between steps to take, a path to follow.
Liking that the two candles seeming like they’re mimicking Cricket’s flying ears reminds me of your post when Ellie very unexpectedly began to eat foods that her late sister Cricket liked to eat. I think this candles-mimicking-her-ears moment is a sign that Cricket can still somehow hear you and/or a sign of her supernatural way of being still here with you and it’s a reminder (even after death) that she is free (like a bird flying) and that her indomitable stubborn spirit continues and is strong and fierce enough to crossover into tangible/non-spirit form (like those two candles seeming like they’re mimicking her flying ears). Strongly agreeing with you; that is a wonderful surprise.
Cricket’s spirit is still ever present.
Have you seen this: https://www.washingtonpost.com/climate-solutions/2024/10/18/pawpaw-trees-climate-change/
Pawpaws are magical!
I completely understand what you’re saying and feeling. I thought after 7 years (the year of completion) I could stop mourning my Lexi. But I’m in year eight, and it’s only starting to fade, just a bit.
As for getting another dog, this my shortened story. Someone was going to take Lucy to the shelter, so I brought her home, intending to find her a permanent home. This was several months after losing Lexi. After a few weeks, while I was still frantically searching the internet for another schnauzer, I felt the Lords say to me, “Look down. [Lucy was laying at my feet.] I have given you a dog to heal your heart.” I started to cry, ran into my husband’s office, and asked if we could keep her. He laughed and said yes, he already knew we were keeping her. A few months later I did find a schnauzer puppy (now known as Xena) the exact opposite of what Lexi was like, and she’s my baby.
I guess I’m saying you’ll know when it’s time.
I wish I could manage a larger dog; Lucy has the most wonderful personality. I’m hoping for better luck than we’ve had so far with the dog search.
I believe it’s because it’s either not the right time, either for you, or the right dog isn’t ready yet.
I hope you’re right and that the right time and the right dog will come soon.
I am so sorry about Cricket. I remember her passing as well as Ellie’s passing. They were both such cute dogs. Your photos are beautiful.
Thank you!
I grew up with paw paw trees. I hope next summer your tree is in good health and the fruit delicious for you to enjoy.
Thank you!
When I lost Sam and then Norman, I learned that grief is merely love with no place to go. They may be gone, but neither will ever be forgotten. Sending gentle thoughts of comfort as you continue to grieve and mourn the losses of this past year. Each day is another step in the process. ❤️🩹
Thank you!
Dear rachelmankowitz
I am glade to read youre all story about every day of my life youre story such a great👍 you chose a new word for it. Well done it I appreciate your work.. Best Regards Xee Awan
Do your girls ever come back to visit you? Do you hear their footsteps at night even though they’re on the Other Side?
All the time.
I’m jealous! My boys don’t come back all that often. ❤️
I’m sorry you’re still hurting. Our fur babies are imprinted in our hearts and it’s not easy to move on from their loss. ((HUGS))
Thank you!
It’s wholly understandable that you’re still missing your girls.
Thank you!
Ollie’s ashes are in a small wooden casket with his name on it and remain on the window ledge in the living room. They will not be spread, but will stay with us until the time comes for us to join him.
Best wishes, Pete.
That’s beautiful!
My dog Daniel died 11 years ago. His ashes lay in a small beautiful cedar box. There is one stone on his resting place to let whomever know that I am thinking of my buddy. Every year I say I’m going to spread his ashes on our property, but like you- I am still not ready. Maybe one day?
Thanks for sharing your thoughts and may cricket, Ellie and Cicero memories always be a blessing.
Thank you!
Bless you, bless Cricket, bless your mum and bless Ellie. A tough year for you all.
Thank you!
So sorry for your continuing pain. Take care, and stay strong.
Thank you!
I wrote my first blogpost on the yahrzeit of losing Riley. After a year and a cross country move, I was finally ready to have a new pup in my life and he’s led me to my new best friend.
That’s wonderful!
I’m sorry that you are still missing Cricket and Ellie so much but I am not surprised. My Airedale terrier, Toby, died in 2017, and his ashes are still in a jar waiting for me to feel ready to spread them.
It’s so hard to lose them.
I know.
I’m not familiar with the unveiling ceremony. I like the idea of a sort of memorial to commemorate a year gone by. As much as I say that though, I couldn’t tell you the date of either of either of my parent’s death. Their birthdays yes, but not that other significant moment in the lives when they moved on. I still miss them and wish them happy birthdays. You will never stop missing your dear furry family members and they will always be part of you wherever their ashes are.
You’re right. Thank you!
My thoughts are with you, Rachel. I, too, mourn the loss of a beloved pup this year.
Thank you!
Cricket looks almost exactly the same as friend of mine’s Yorkie who needed to be euthanatized last month. Both she and I were attached deeply to Cora, the Yorkie. Seeing Cricket is almost like having a visit from the spirit world. October is the time when the spirit world and ours are very close.
This is a strong Wiccan concept . Even though I’m not Wiccan, I believe this
It’s a comforting thought.
Claude
That’s a lovely idea. Thank you!
The Wiccan view is so much more comforting than the popular notion of Wiccans being Satanic. I’m not Wiccan, but know a couple of people who are. They’re very peaceful and ethical people
MY spirituality is a mix of Reform Judaism, Wiccan , and Taoism.
THis might sound complicated to some people, but it actually isn’t
Claude
I miss Cricket and Ellie too Rachel, and of course Butterfly. Wonderful companions, never forgotten and always in our hearts. Almost four years since we lost Maggie, and it still hurts. We have Maya now, and our hearts have just expanded to make room for her. Much love ❤
Thank you! It’s amazing how much grief, and how much love, our hearts can hold.
I know Rachel. Maya will be 3 next month and I can’t imagine her not here. She’s big, bouncy, a pain in the butt sometimes and hell on the lead at the moment but she’s so loveable and affectionate, and her temperament is wonderful.
Aw…Rachel, your dogs were so sweet.
Thank you!
Ya know I miss your dogs…i.hope one day you consider another
Thank you!
There is no set time limit for mourning. We never forget those we’ve loved and lost. Rituals not only honor lost loved ones. They remind us to go on w/ our lives…as they would wish us to do. ❤
Thank you!
The image of Cricket, her ears mirrored by the candles’ bends, is so very lovely, Rachel–especially because the candles are visible enmeshed with Cricket in the photo.
Hope is the operative word: for healing, for peace, for new growth and new companion animals. You’ll know when the time is right, and I’m betting the paw paws will flourish next year.
I hope so! Thank you!
Our Smokey died after 17 years of wonderful companionship and love. We remember him always (1986-2002),
Beautiful!
loved the picture
Happy Halloween 🦇 🎃🦇
Our little furry family members always stay in our hearts. I can relate to everything you have written about letting go after the loss of our sweet little animals, they bring us so much comfort and happiness. Just innocent and selfish little creatures, their only job was always just to love us. That is such a sweet photo with the ears and candles…so beautiful how that happened like that.
Thank you!
I’m so sorry you’re hurting. I hope things get better.
Thank you!
May this only be a small pause in the pitted-patter of small paws finding their way to you soon
I hope so! Thank you!
Oh, Rachel. My heart is with you. You always wrote such wonderful stories about your doggies. I felt like I knew them. Sending comfort and love your way. Lori
Thank you!