1.7 million hours

Over 80 years.

If I counted the days right (including leap years), my Grandma Raynor lived exactly 29,237 days. Over 1.7 million hours on this Earth.

Over 31 years.

If I counted those days right, that would be 11,041. That was how many days our lives crossed paths.

Not every one of those days was a day we saw each other, but her influence on my life has been felt in every single one of those days.

I can remember her being a part of my first baseball experience. I don't remember who else went. It was a Cubs game - I want to say about 1987 or 1988 - and I believe my favorite player at the time (Andre Dawson) hit a home run in that game. I remember having a great time and getting to experience it with my grandma.

From there, she was around for just about every major life event. First Communion, all my birthdays, graduations (I believe junior high, high school and college). Would have attended a Bar Mitzvah too if I was Jewish.

And that's the key - she was there.

As a kid, you don't realize how much you value the idea of someone being there for your little league games, your events that aren't really memorable later in life except for the fact that you can remember the people who went to see you.

And that sense of humor...

If there is someone who had a better sense of humor than my grandma did, especially for someone her age, I'd like to meet him or her. I've never met someone who was so easily able to make fun of herself, laugh at herself, as my grandma. Including myself, there have been three or four people who have had a Halloween costume based off of her, and she loved every minute of it.

Her laugh was infectious. You could make fun of her just as easily as she could make fun of you - and you knew it was out of love. In fact, it was something Jen just told me on the car ride back from the hospital as one of her first memories of my grandma and how she knew that I was a keeper - she could tell how much I loved my grandma based on her observations of our interactions that particular day.

I remember her knack for spending waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much on Christmas gifts (Sorry, I mean 'Santa'). Even at a young age, I knew we were getting spoiled way too much, yet she spent on her grand kids non-stop. We loved her for it, but I think most of us knew we had it too good. That's how grandma was.

It's weird to think that she's lived on her own without Grandpa for almost 17 years. The great thing in that time, however, is how much closer us grandkids (and probably even her own kids) were able to get to grandma.

So many great stories to tell from the nights my cousins and I spent the night over there, not enough censors to block everything out.

Marilyn Raynor was an amazing woman, and I am honored that I was able to share the last moments of her life amongst our family. She was at complete peace when death came calling. That is the dream.

She was a strong woman, much stronger than I gave her credit for. She was never a woman who gave up, even in death. She beat death, but death just needed to set up a best of 3 - which of course she won easily.

I'll always remember my last exchange with her on a cold Sunday afternoon in March, saying and signing "I love you", with her signing it back. If there's a lesson to be learned from all of this, as you say goodbye to someone for a day or the night, try to make that last interaction a positive one. I will always remember this exchange fondly.

Thank you to all who have shown your concern and your love. I love you right back and wish you nothing but the best.

Some Buddy to Love: A Eulogy to This Man's Best Friend

It started with a kid and his puppy.

Rest in peace to my best friend, Buddy (1996-2011).

August 1996. The day after our annual family trip to Watersmeet, MI, our family decided to go to Archer Puppies, the place where my mom and dad bought our Golden Retriever which they named Crimson. She was in her waning years at this time - over 15 years old, so we decided to get a second dog that would eventually be her replacement.

The word "replacement" seemed laughable at the time. How could any dog replace Crimmy? She was there by my side when I was born in the UP of Michigan and was a loyal, loving dog throughout my life.

The dog we selected was the last of his litter. We wanted to get a similar dog to Crimson - a mutt with some retriever/lab qualities to it, and this dog stood out with his piercing green eyes.

Now, what to name him? A few names were tossed out - Chipper and Buddy were the finalists. We settled on Buddy - original, I know.

Any worries we had about Crimson and Buddy getting along were unwarranted, as the puppy kept out of the way of the queen for the most part. For the few months they co-existed, Buddy was still in his cage days as a pup. These days included a cliche coming to life. I left CCD homework on top of his cage, which he actually chewed - giving me the chance to legitimately use the excuse "My dog ate my homework."

When Crimson was put down in October of that year, we were all devastated. The dog that all of us grew up with was suddenly gone. I just knew that the connection I had with her would be impossible to match with the new pup.

Bud - Wiser: My High School Years

About as mean as he could look.

As he aged, so my love of the dog grew. I loved taking him for walks around the neighbor. My favorite spot was going to El Morro Park, where I'd go to talk to some girls from my class that worked there. Bringing the dog surely didn't help my chances with the girls, unfortunately. Nevertheless, our outdoor activities together as well as teaching him tricks (one of my favorites was catching the treat that was balanced on his big nose) made me happy to know that Buddy was a suitable replacement for Crimson.

Me and Spencer chillin' with a younger Buddy

College Days & the Introduction of Another Dog

Going to the University of Illinois in August of 2001 was the first time that I would go without having a dog around my living area. I knew that college would be tough enough dealing with the adjustments of a new living situation and tougher classes, among other thing. Living without a dog was definitely difficult to do.

Visits back home ensured me that my Buddy never forgot who I was. His cries could be heard and curly tail could be seen wagging furiously as I stepped out of the mini van after my parents picked me up from school. Those weekends spent at home were often spent hanging out with friends, but while at home, my best friend never left my side. It was always bittersweet saying good bye to him and the rest of the family as I left the house.

During my summer break of 2004, the time preceding what would be my senior year at UI, my sister wanted to get another puppy - a beagle mix that we named Pixie. If she did, my dad swore that she would have to take care of it - (editor's note: the next day, he was feeding her and picking up her crap. Dad Fail). I was skeptical of getting a new dog and remembered that one of the main reasons we got a second dog last time was because the older one was on its way out. I was not on board with the second dog idea, and neither was Buddy at first.

It didn't take long for Buddy and Pixie to become friends.

But after a little bit of time together, the dogs became compadres, with Pixie asserting herself as the clear Alpha dog. Soon after, the dogs got in the habit of cleaning each other's ears - a habit that continued into 2011. Buddy would lick her ears after a play fight that they'd have in the living room, while Pixie waited for her brother to be passed out on the floor to gnaw on his ears for 15-30 minutes at a time.

A common sight through their years together.

From the time before we got dog 2 to the time Pixie became an active presence in his life, Buddy's quality of life definitely improved. Each of them became dependent on the other, so much so that neither dog feels comfortable going outside to the bathroom without the other. Despite her occasional bitchiness to the old man, Pixie was a great addition to our household.

The Later Years

In the past couple years, there were a few instances where we wondered how much longer the Bolek's Best Friend was gonna make it. I'd be going on facebook and sharing my worries about his demise, only for him to tell me, "Buzz off, I'm great" with his eventual recovery from whatever the ailment at the time may have been. Hell, there were a lot of times where he'd be the one to initiate a fight with Pixie - putting a big smile on my face anytime he would try attacking her. He was a gentle giant with her though, so never were there any injuries from this ever.

Buddy at the end of one of our many poker games in the garage. He always wanted to be by people.
Don't worry - we drank those beers. He may have had a sip or two though.

The closest I thought we were to his demise was in June of 2010, when he had an inner ear problem (diagnosed as vestibular disease) that severely affected his balance. Luckily, the medication that we gave to him was able to curb his balance problem, and he was back to his old dog self.

With each walk I took him on, I always wondered if each walk that I would take with him around the block would be my last one with him. Luckily, this year, I was able to get his old legs to hobble around the block a few times in August as I was rehabbing from my back injury suffered in July.

In the past couple of months, his quality of life has been low. Many times, you could see him struggle with walking up and down stairs, collapsing occasionally while doing this in addition to some falls while just walking around the house.

The process of discussing putting him to sleep has often left me weeping. How could we put ourselves in this position of ending our dog's life?

It's never an easy decision for a family to make - and it's no different for us. Tears are coming out as I write this. I know it's for the best - as his quality of life was nil. He could barely walk and was starting to make waste in the house - something a functioning Buddy would not do.

Reflecting

I know it was the right choice. We were all waiting for a major sign like we did when Crimson was on her last legs. In her last week, she couldn't walk and had a huge tumor on her leg. I believe she was crapping in the house too. That choice was a lot easier for the family.

Always looked so happy.

Buddy could still walk, but do we want to keep watching him struggle mightily and collapse frequently as he navigated steps and could barely walk on flat ground without the chance of falling into a sitting or laying position? We couldn't keep doing that, so putting him down was the only logical option.

I never thought that Buddy could leave a legacy that could match (and in some ways, exceed) the dog before. But he did. He was always a happy dog, always loyal and always following me around. In the last couple years, he made a habit of sleeping next to my bed. He wouldn't even wake up for my dad anymore - just for when I'd roll out of bed to start my day.

Great picture taken by Lauren here.

In his last night with me, it was much of the same. Making it all the harder to do.

As I had imagined it in my head for years, I was able to share some Miller Lite with him (his favorite beer) the night before we put him down. He didn't finish the bowl, but he drank a decent portion of it.

I made sure to give him as loving of a last hug as I could - much like my sis's hug here.

I'll remember all of the walks we took, the treats I'd toss for him to catch, the tennis balls I would have him fetch (and oftentimes, the tennis balls that I ended up fetching after he got bored with it).

About thirty minutes before we brought him in, I decided that I needed one last walk around the block with him. I'm really, really, really glad I did.

He was always by my side, and he will be missed. It will be a tough thing to get through, but with the love and support of my family and friends, I know I'll be ok.

So it goes, it ended with a man and his dog.

The sun will always shine bright on this old guy.

The 5,529 days in-between, full of memories and great bonding experiences between man and dog, is an era of my life that I'll never forget.

Rest in peace, my stinky boy. You will be missed.