Tag Archives: Loss

Three Truths and One Wish

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stop1. Truth: I was going to skip this post today. This week has been insanely busy, overwhelming, and it’s only Tuesday. I got my hair cut yesterday and fell asleep in the chair. There is so much to do–Reverb12 posts to write, grading to do, appointments that need made, meetings to attend, doggy health issues that need addressed–I woke up with a headache and there is work work work to get done, so much to stress and fuss about, the familiar mantra repeating with each step, “I’m so tired, I’m so tired,” and yet when I walked the dogs this morning, three ideas arose, spoke their truth, insisted on being shared.

dexteratcsu2. Because I already have so much to worry about, I haven’t been worrying about Dexter. He’s been having good day after good day with hardly any symptoms of his cancer, so with so much other muck and mayhem, it’s easy to forget he’s still dying, that this is a season of good-bye.

csucairn3. This means when Dexter finally does start to get worse, I will have to restart the letting go. It won’t be entirely new, but it will have to start again, to begin again, I will have to revisit the grief, the tangibility of his loss, have to face it again, anew, like waking up from sleep, having forgotten the bad thing has happened, only to have that awareness touch you, remind you, surprise you with it’s immediacy and weight, even after all this time, fresh and raw.

mygiftOne wish: that no matter how busy or overwhelmed or stressed out or tired or sad we might be, that we can feel some relief, some measure of ease, even if only for a few breaths, even if for only a single moment, that we can stop and recognize the gift of life, that we can love and appreciate it, all of it, beautiful and brutal, tender and terrible.

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.