Grief is not a good bedfellow. I’m laying in my bed. It’s my day off. And it’s another write-off wasted day as I think about getting dressed and maybe walking the dogs, but I know I’ll probably sit in my pajamas until well into the afternoon. That seems to be my thing these days. Motivation seems to have walked out on me: I think we have separated from one another to be honest.
Grief peeks around the door and says: “Hey. What are we up to today? Feel like listening to some music over and over that we know is going to make us cry? “. I look over at Grief and say ” oh God no. Not today. Not the music! I’m sad enough as it is!” But Grief thinks it might be a good idea to listen to “just one song”. Music is good for our soul after all. So I turn on the music and choose a song that I think will make me feel good, knowing that certain songs just leave me feeling hollow. Of course, I didn’t pick a feel-good song.
But I’m a little bit on top of Grief today. I stuck to my guns and played ” just that one song” even though Grief goaded me to play more. The music kindled that strange nostalgia …. that eerie feeling that I can’t place: like being in a black and white dream where there’s an old song playing on a record player. But I didn’t cry. My dog is sick today so Grief has to contend with my feelings of Worry for him, and for my Frustration after having to keep cleaning up from his garbage can chicken wing bone adventure of yesterday. I need not elaborate on that last part. But suffice it to say it’s been a long night of being up to my elbows in shit.
Randy is at work and so I find myself home alone. I had such good intention to tidy: wash floors; clean windows; clean the yard; clean the bathrooms; do the laundry and all the other things that need doing. And I don’t know if I can blame Motivations absence or if it’s just a case of Laziness. Maybe the list was just too daunting and I should have shortened it. Maybe I’m just too tired and frustrated from cleaning dog poo for the last 7 hours. Whatever the case may be: it’s 11:20. And I’ve wasted most of the morning doing nothing.
My dog Abe has a reputation for being a bull in a china shop. Everything about that dog is calamity. Whether it’s knocking plates off the counter; standing on the new patio dining table and denting it; bowling anyone over as they walk down the stairs; knocking things over with his tail; or getting into the garbage can and eating things that he shouldn’t ( he has eaten two chicken carcasses in the past and half a dozen eggs – shell and all. And of course now 24 chicken wing bones. ) He has a particular lust for cat food. Or anyone else’s food that isn’t his. I have babied him since I got him because he was born deaf and has anxiety. That stacked with the fact that he is 70 lbs of Cattle Dog makes him a candidate for being one of those ” only a mother could love” kind of dogs. But this morning he is driving my nerves over a raw edge. It’s a nice day so I put him out and out he can stay because I’m tired of scrubbing carpets. But he is so needy that he is just standing at the back door barking to come in. I bought this house for him so that he could have a yard, but he hates being out of my sight and prefers to serve as a tripping stone. I just wish something in my life would give right now so that I could feel a sense of peace. But of course, Grief doesn’t give way to peace. It’s not her fault. Grief is love with nowhere to go. It’s her job to ward off depression that one could easily sink into which is much more dangerous.
Abe keeps me here. Despite all his shortcomings, I love that dog. I feel as if he was sent to me by the Universe 5 years ago to save me from myself. He has seen me through hard times and when he thought he could finally relax: Grief stepped in : Sam died. My life as we had come know it was gone. At my darkest moments on this journey of loss, there has been Abe: with his big brown eyes to pull me back from the brink. It’s his needs that I fear no one else would tolerate that often closes the door from me running out and fleeing from everyone and everything. When my family stopped checking to see if I was OK: Abe did not. When I realized I couldn’t share my pain with them – Abe sat at my feet or let me wrap my arms and cry into his fur. When I say my dog keeps me here… it is literally that. And of course, Buddy ( Sam’s dog) too. They need me. So for them I stay.
Anyway, Grief , Worry and Frustration today seem to be determined to keep me from getting things done. I think it’s time for me to stand up to them all and grab a mop and bucket. I think a clean home will make me feel better. 🏡
For the Love of Sam 