Originally Posted by Andrew Dee
Hi Izzy!
A very raw song, with plenty of space, illustrating the emptiness of grief, and where everyday items or situations can become explanations or symbols of the circumstances of loss. Your song title is a combination of the present and the past, feeling like you have one foot on either side.

I still remember our own canine friend - Toby- who quickly became the centre of all things in our household and an ever-present observer, participant and confidante to all in the family. His absence left a gaping hole. He joined us when our kids were very young, and departed just as they were becoming adults - we were never quite the same again. His scratch marks on the family room sliding door being the only remaining reminder of his life here.

May the quiet times of reflection not be lonely for you, but a time when you can celebrate the honour of sharing a life with Max.

Warm regards,
Andrew

Hi Andrew,

Thank you so much for taking the time to listen and for your incredibly thoughtful words.โ€ฏYour description of the songโ€™s โ€œemptiness of griefโ€ really resonated with meโ€”itโ€™s exactly what I was hoping to convey, the quiet spaces that suddenly feel so full of memory.

Reading about Toby brought a warm lump to my throat. Itโ€™s amazing (and a little uncanny) how similar our stories are: a beloved K9 companion weaving himself into the everyday fabric of a family, only to leave a palpable hole when heโ€™s gone. I can picture those scratch marks on the sliding door, a subtle, enduring reminder of his presence, and Iโ€™m grateful you shared that detail. Itโ€™s comforting to know that Maxโ€™s legacy, like Tobyโ€™s, lives on in the small, everyday moments that suddenly take on new meaning.

Iโ€™m glad the title โ€œI Tucked You Into Yesterdayโ€ feels like a bridge between past and present for you, too. For me, itโ€™s both a gentle sigh of farewell and a quiet promise to keep holding onto the love we shared. Your encouragement that the quiet times of reflection can become a celebration rather than loneliness means a lotโ€”itโ€™s exactly the mindset Iโ€™m trying to nurture.

Thanks again for your kindness, empathy, and the beautiful memory of Toby. It reminds me that weโ€™re not alone in navigating these bittersweet chapters, and that our pets continue to ripple through our lives long after theyโ€™ve left our side.

Warm regards,
Izzy (and Max)