Wave upon wave upon wave
There are extremes where the grief seems so distant that I feel guilty for getting back to my normal routine. And other moments when I wonder for how long it is going to hurt this bad.
Such little things trigger it. I start humming Tiny Dancer and then I am under the sea once again.
But I think the waves are becoming smaller if no less intense and maybe farther apart.
Timing seems to be everything.
Luckily, I have been renting the Joseph Campbell series on Netflix and today he was talking about the people for who he cared so deeply who have passed on. He says that every moment is eternity and so the moments that he shared with them stay with him outside of time. So it isn't about whether they are "here" or not, but that those moments were shared... at least that is the way it makes sense to me.
That is hopefully where I will find my comfort with Meg. Those moments when she was feeling good that she granted us to have with her. Those moments transcend time so they are ours - how we want them - where and whenever we want them.
And I still feel her presence.
There are many of you who have been giving us your sympathy and for that, thank you so much. It is helpful that people have a sense of what this means to us.
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2 Comments:
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Ian, I think that Meg was your heart dog. I too lost my first heart dog to a brain tumor in 2002. I hurt like you so badly and it did come in waves like you said, and it did ebb away after alot of time. There was times that it felt like oceans of grief washed over me...
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This would have been part of a blog if there were blog's when she died.
I had always heard that your dog will let you know when it is time to them them go. I don't think I ever quite understood that. I mean "how do they let you know?"
Now I know.
Itsy has had seizures, for about 5 years, and has been on Phenobarbital 2x a day.
Last week she started tremoring constantly and I noticed her eyes didn't seem very focused, kinda glazed over? Shee seems uncoordinated and has lost her appetite. I had wondered if she had lost her hearing because she didn't respond to me anymore. I think she can hear me, but she just isn't intersted if I aske her if she wants to go for a walk, go outside, go for a ride, get a treat, or if she is hungery? She used to get an excited look on her face, but now she doesn't even lift her head.
She doesn't seem to be in any pain, but she doesn't seem to be happy either. SHe looks tired. So very tired. She just isn't herself anymore?
I talked to my vet, and he believes her brain tumor has grown to the point that it is pressing on some major blood vessel and causing this altered state. I know I have to let my friend go.
When she passed away, I wrote this:
When you look up at the heavens tonight, you will see one star that is outshining the others. My best friend went to the rainbow bridge today, and that star is her. Tonight instead of sleeping in my arms she wil be sleeping in the arms of an Angel. God Bless you my Itsy, and I will miss you more than you will ever know.
Since Itsy's passing, I turned to doing rescue work, finding dogs forever homes. I know I could not keep all that I found that need good homes, so I began the search for hearts and homes for dogs in need.
Roll forward about 4 years...
I have helped over 200 Boston Terriers find homes over the past 5 or 6 years. And I have loved, liked and disliked, and wanted to adopt so many of them? But I would like you to understand that when you do what I do at you just cannot always do what your heart speaks?
Rescue has definately had it's share of mountains of ups and downs, but my absolute heartbreak, the absolute bottom that a person reaches when they feel so so very bad,was when I reached the crossroads to put to sleep my little Frankie, one of those dogs, that did not stand a chance to be adopted or to live a healthy life, After that, I really changed. I am still changed. My soul was truely chipped or cracked. I swore I would not love another dog again. That no way that another dog would ever get back in that deep trench. I still just don't know. He was everything to me....
There has been so many times that I told myself that dang it, I don't need to feel the loss I have felt so many times. I was so jealous of many of your happy and heathy dog stories, I think that is why I made up my own about my sweet Frankie. He definately had the personality, he just didn't have the body to carry it.
So I am at a crossroads here... This new little dog? Sunny.
I see this wonderful little creature, this loving little creature. I adore her. But I am so afraid to love her? It is very hard to open your heart, time and time again to let it be broken by losing them by disease or illiness, or old age, etc. I am just so scared I am setting myself up for yet another heartbreak with her.
I am happy to say that I did adopt Sunny, she still has a long road to go to be healthy, but she definately has helped my heart to heal. My love for Itsy or Frankie will not diminish, it has just taken up a chamber in my heart where it will remain, and I can go back and dust off cobwebs and talk to them as often as I want, and Sunny is here with me to remind me that life must go on.
Good Luck Ian!
Good Speed to Little Meg, and you and Em have one special girl waiting for you at the Rainbow Bridge!
Hugs,
Jodi
, at 6/30/2006 9:23 PM
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I have so much admiration and respect for you and people like you for taking on such a heavy task. That is one hell of a road to have traveled.
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But the stoutness of your heart and strength of your character are evident in your continued journey.
If it wasn't for people like you, we never would have had the time that we had with Meggos.
I send all of my best wishes and good intentions to you and Sunny and I trust that with a person who cares as much as you, that she and all of the others for whom you have given your energy are receiving the best care they can.
Ian, at 6/30/2006 11:11 PM
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