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For the avoidance of doubt... Yes... I definitely have an opinion... |
 Welcome to my Blog!! Having an opinion is better than not having a thought of your own. I have many of both.... Pull up a pew and grab a hot, steaming mug of your choice. |
| Prompt: “One day you discover you are alive. Explosion! Concussion! Illumination! Delight! You laugh, you dance around, you shout. But, not long after, the sun goes out. Snow falls, but no one sees it, on an August noon.” ~ Ray Bradbury *** WARNING - THIS IS NOT A HAPPY POST One day everything is fine. The world is full of fun and laughter and light, and the next it's knocked off its axis. The whole ground, never mind the rug, is taken out from under you and you are left staring into space like a zombie. It's the same world, but it's grey. All of the colour has been leached out of it. The snow dampens the sounds around you, sucking the life out of everything until the silence makes your brain hurt and itch. So much so you want to scream. If people look closely, they can see you're breaking. It's written in your bones, your muscles, your tired eyes. It's in the way you stare into the void that now exists - because They are not here anymore, so how can life ever be the same. *** We had to put our family dog to sleep on Tuesday night. I don't think I've stopped crying since. I had to tuck our kids in bed and reassure them Indy would be back in the morning, while Guy headed of the emergency vets. We thought it would be a case of antibiotics, maybe a blood test. I didn't think I'd get a phone call just after ten to say we needed to make a decision... that decision. We knew it was coming at some point. She was 13year 7 months. A good innings for an Akita. And we had had her since she was 7 weeks old. But it wasn't / isn't long enough. I know it was never going to be enough. A friend came over to watch the kids as we stole away into the night and headed to the veterinarian hospital. We got to comfort her and say goodbye. She fell asleep with her head in my arms, while my heart broke into pieces. I felt it when she slipped away - when her heart stopped. I can't unfeel it. I don't think I even want to. We told the kids the next morning. They are young enough to process it in a way that doesn't swallow them whole - I'm kinda jealous. I don't have that luxury. I feel like I'm drowning in my grief. I'm reminded of our new reality every second I step into the house. When I look at the food bowl that I haven't yet cleared away or the treat she left on the side of it. The house is too damn quiet it's practically screaming at me. There is no yowling to be let out or grumbling because I won't share food. I don't have a second shadow anymore. I don't want to people at the moment. I just want to sink into my semi catatonic state while my brain recalibrates - it's how I process grief. I don't want hugs and "I'm so sorry for your loss". But it's all people know how to give when they see someone they care about break. And I am breaking. Spectacularly so. It's almost an art form. We had to organise her collection and cremation yesterday. Choose if we wanted a viewing beforehand. Choose the urn/vessel. I'm selfish. I don't want to spread her ashes. I want to keep her with me. She always was with me. I don't think I will settle until she's home. The cremation isn't until Aug and she won't come home for a few after that. It's the longest we will have ever been part. |
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