Lucy and my brother Bob in Montana, Summer 2008
I am lost. I can tell Silas is too. There's no one for him to howl with or kick his butt wrestling, or watch over the yard for. Life is too quiet without Lucy's squeaking, barking, howling and general insistent cuteness. I want her back. She was here 3 days ago at this time, perfectly fine. What the fuck?!?
God, I don't understand anything.
Silas and I have been bombarded with love and support. I've decided to keep track for my own consolation. Yesterday alone we had:
- A card slipped under my front door from Ron, Mary Ellen & their 20 paws (5 dogs)
- A morning visit from Tonya bearing freshly baked warm banana bread (Silas loves baked goods too)
- A morning visit from my Mama
- An afternoon visit from Cary, with pink potted flowers, a card and a squeaky toy for Silas that says BITE ME
- An offer from Abby to bring lunch on Friday, and invite others, and dedicate the lunch to Lucy
- Dozens more comments, posts and emails offering support, sympathy, understanding and love
- A super fun playtime with Max for Silas, which definitely helped lighten both their hearts
- An afternoon visit from Tonya bearing homemade vegetable beef soup
- The first sign from Lucy/God via my Mom! After Lucy's ashes were delivered to her -- because I'm not ready to have Lucy in that form yet -- my Mom went back down to finish making yogurt and there was a black Lucy hair floating on top of the milk! If that'd happened at my house it'd be a typical day, but Lucy's never stepped foot/paw inside my parents' new house and my Mom had clean clothes on. A definite sign.
- So much LOVE, support and hugs from women at my Wednesday night AA meeting
- A rose quartz crystal -- which symbolizes love -- anonymously left on my front rockery
- An evening with Sami, who filled my water glass and brought me plates of fruit with whip cream and wrote both a letter to Lucy and a Philosophy paper about Lucy (with her permission I'll post them both)
I have never experienced more love, connection and support than I am right now. I can't even tell you how much it means to me. How much it helps.
I'm not functional and I suppose it's good I don't expect myself to be. The most I can do is the bare minimum at work which today is going to be packing up one candle order then emailing wholesale customers that their orders will hopefully ship next week. I can't do more than that. I've decided to go for a swim at noon, and Sami's coming over to sit with Silas while I'm gone. I don't want him to be alone.
This afternoon I'm going to start a new routine to replace his old routine with Lucy. I HATE THAT I HAVE TO BE DOING THIS. I just want her back! But in addition to the usual off-leash playtime I'm going to start taking him for a walk every afternoon, during the time the two of them would normally roughhouse.
Writing helps. Being with people helps. But I can't avoid feeling this immense grief and loss, which comes and goes in waves when I stop writing, when the people leave.
The last 7 years have not been easy. I thought 2010 would be a banner year, and the first half was genuinely good. Yet once again life feels like a neverending series of loss and grief punctuated by brief intervals of happiness. I've sent a Vacation Request in to God, that I don't have to come back and do this Earth Dance again. It's too hard for someone like me. Like Tonya and I were saying this morning, some of us were born missing key pieces to the coping puzzle.
Meanwhile I shower Silas with love, friends, play and affection. Wander around. Breathe. Cry. Shower. Pray. Sleep. Be held. It's all I can do.
Oh heart, if one should say to you that the soul perishes like the body
answer that the flower withers, but the seed remains.
Kahlil Gibran
Carla, I think that you are not abnormal or missing anything. I think grief is just this hard. And the more the love the more the grief. It is so hard, no one can even say. I don't know why it is a part of our life here on earth, but it is. If you keep doing what you can, memorializing Lucy each day as you see fit, and getting through the day with the help of those who love you--you can not do more, nor should you. It is perfectly, perfectly normal. You are where you should be although it's still a lonely, bereft and horribly painful place. We go there when we love...or our loved ones do when we die.
Life is not all shiny or easy, although many say this. And despite all the support and love, I think we always grieve alone. Even while caring for others who have experienced the same loss (like Silas), we go through it mostly alone.
Most of all, you are not missing anything. You are just alive and you love, and this is what happens. I hate it too.
Much love, O
Posted by: Olivia Brown | Thursday, July 08, 2010 at 11:33 AM
Please know that even in those quiet dark moments when the tears feel like they will never stop, many people have you in thier thoughts, hearts and wrapped in thier arms.
Posted by: Createjoy10 | Friday, July 09, 2010 at 07:27 AM