I just want to say thank you - again - to everyone for all their kind words and thoughts.
Grief and memory are such personal things, yet I have opened my heart here and in turn I’ve received so many wonderful words of support from everyone.
Here it is now 2 weeks since my beloved Dolly died and I have to admit I am no farther ahead in getting over her death than I was two weeks ago. I know that it is all part and parcel of my breakdown and the fragility of my mind since then. I became a different person after my breakdown – a nicer person I think – but still a different person. And her death has affected me like a sledgehammer to the head.
Dolly meant so much to me as we shared our days together. Before The Man - there was Dolly. Now I hate the mornings as Dolly and I had a routine. She would get me up and I would feed her. She was very talkative in the morning and much fun. She made me smile every day and often made me laugh out loud. As I spend nearly all of my time at home – alone while The Man works – I spent most of that time talking to Dolly and playing with her as I worked around the house. Now that is gone and what fill those times are tears.
Still more time is needed for me. As with Cid my grief does go on and on. He died 7 years ago and I can mourn like it was yesterday.
I missed last week’s Candle Ceremony at the Rainbow Bridge as my brother was here to pick up his cats. Tonight I will not miss it. Sharing with others who feel the same way has to be rewarding and helpful. I look forward to it.
I wrote the following this past week. It's not finished, I feel that in my heart - but it's a start.
There’s a dance that we dance, alone in our heads, our arms extended and our eyes closed.
There’s a dance we swing to, sway to, sashay to.
There’s a dance we sing to, hum along to, play to.
It’s called the dance of memory, of misery, of angst.
It’s hidden inside each of us, deep down, and fearful.
It comes without calling, sliding and moaning.
It comes at our bidding, skipping and shouting.
It comes and it takes us, back and beyond.
It comes and it makes us sometimes sadder sometimes gladder.
It comes from life. From experiences. From love.
It comes and it dances inside of our heads.
It’s the dance of memory, and it plays with my head.