Letters to Jett

By Terry Hilliard

Dear Jett,

I believe everybody should know pure joy at least once in their lives. But life is complicated and hard – a lot. I know you understand both pure joy and the hard stuff of life. We start out with this simple and beautiful life. We are born, and someone nurtures us, feeds us, and cares for us. Your mom and the Wildrose staff did that for you until I came to bring you home. You entered our house, full of love and 3 girls and Paw Paw and I bet you were missing your momma and siblings. When you cried at night, I am sure you just wanted to feel their heartbeats and smell their fur. 

I’ve had some joyful moments: getting married, having babies, adopting beautiful girls and I’ve had many scary and hard and sad moments made of things such as sickness, trauma, and loss. You know a lot about hard stuff because your last couple of months were filled with pain and sickness. 

I want you to know you’ve taught me about dealing with life’s hardest moments. Remember the first time I took you to the Rez? We had been training and I was ready to take you to the water. I threw the bumper as far as I could, and then you heard, “Jett”. You leapt into action and flew over the water and when you splashed into the water, you swam until you reached the bumper and then turned to come back to shore. We did this over and over. When we moved to the coast, we continued our fun in the water at the beach. 

When we bought our house with the pond, my perspective on our training and fun changed completely. Until then, I always watched you from the rear. I would throw the bumper into the water. You would wait until I gave you the command, and then you would jump into the water, swim until you retrieved it, and then return to me. I only had a rear-view perspective. But with our pond, I could walk around the other side and watch you on your journey.

And that’s when I realized you knew pure joy. That’s when you began to teach me what pure joy is all about. You see, I had never seen your face when you leapt for the water – when with everything in your body, you flew through the air until because of gravity, your paws touched the water until your body was surrounded by water. The day I got to watch as you took flight was the day I shifted. Not only did your body fly high over the water, I saw your spirit so full of joy that I felt it as well. You were full of joy. You carried that joy over the water just a couple of weeks before you were gone even though your flight was not as high or long. I could see it in your eyes. You were still finding joy in the journey.

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I wish I could tell you that I’ve lived every day since then with pure joy – joy amid every circumstance – but I can’t. And yet, your lessons are not lost on me my friend. It’s kind of ironic that I spent so much time “training” you because really, you trained me to be ready for all of life’s joys and hardships and curve balls. You taught me joy in the moment whether it was to jump in the water to retrieve a bumper or to say goodbye to someone I loved, to celebrate an anniversary, or to hold a hurting daughter. You taught me that no matter how hard it is, or how terrible the circumstance joy can be found in each and every moment and for that, I am eternally grateful. 

I miss you, my four-legged person. But I am so lucky that you found me and that you loved me with your whole heart because my heart will never be the same.  

Love you always, Mom

terryhilliard59@gmail.com