Category Archives: Letting Go

Book Writing Saturday

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The truth is that sometimes there’s a need to yield, to soften, to surrender, to get out of the way of something bigger and faster than you, to give up even. Today feels like that kind of day.

This morning, we went on a mini hike with Dexter at Lory State Park. It’s been three weeks since he’s been there. That last hike was a real one: at least eight miles, most of it spent running. But then things shifted for him just enough that we decided that kind of exercise might be too much for him now, and the times since when Eric has gone with Sam, Dexter has waited at home with me. I was feeling so bad about it that I asked Eric to go this morning, so we could all be there together one more time, even if we couldn’t go that far. We still went about six miles, but we stayed down in the flat land, rather than hiking up in the rocks. We saw the sunrise and lots of deer, and I took a lot of pictures. It felt good to be there, together.

I have to admit though that this letting go is wearing me down. I am tired, depleted, and raw. My intention to work on this book, to keep going is every bit as intense as before, I just don’t have the energy right now to do anything more than to live it. Today I chose to spend what I have, energy and time, with my little family, to take comfort in that, and then to allow myself to rest.

Three Truths and One Wish

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1. Truth: Letting go of something you love is difficult, one of the hardest things. But, I will survive it. I have done this before, watched someone I love die, been separated even though the thing we both wanted the most was to stay together always, and I am still alive, even without them, even with no guarantee I will ever see them again, heart broken but still bound, tethered to an invisible but tangible love.

2. Truth: I can’t change the facts, but I determine how I respond. It’s staying dark later in the mornings now, that’s a fact of nature. This morning, so dark that I’d need to wear a headlamp for our walk, I was feeling grumpy, resistant, wishing away the dark. And yet, a few blocks from our house I looked up at the still dark night morning sky and saw stars. I thought about how on the way back, I’d see the sunrise, how I was taking this walk with two of my dogs. Instead of being cranky that it was dark and cold and early, things I can’t change, I noticed. I felt gratitude, thankful for the grace of one more morning to be awake and alive and together. I can’t alter nature, can’t keep Dexter from dying no matter what I do or how I feel about it, so instead of resisting or wishing things were different, I choose to open my heart to all of it, to be fully present and alive, wakeful and wise and compassionate.

3. Truth: It is okay. As I am surviving this loss, as it washes over me, passes through me, there will be messy moments. I will feel panic and cry in public. I will get angry and fall into despair. I will blame and accuse and rant and regret. I will wish and hope for things to be different. I will vow to never love again. I will hold my grief like it were a physical thing, with warm breath and sharp teeth. I will numb out, sleep and eat too much, say I’m okay, insist on it when I am anything but alright. This is the way love goes, the way the physical form where we focus our love leaves us. There is nothing to be done but to surrender, to be wounded. Eventually there will be another dog, and I’ll do the same thing again–open my heart knowing full well it will be broken. This is the way love goes. It is what it is, and this is workable.

One wish: My single wish underneath all my other wishes right now is that Dexter has an easy death. But, I also wish that those of us in this process of letting go feel some peace, some relief, and have faith in our innate wisdom and kindness and strength, being certain that we’ll know what to do and that whatever arises, it’s all workable.