Memory Dance

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.

Memory Dance

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.

A Week of Grief

A week has gone by and I am numb.

I just wanted to thank everyone for their kind comments and emails. All of them have touched me deeply and I am grateful for the kindness of all of you.

Tonight I am joining in the candle ceremony at the Rainbow Bridge. I have my three candles prepared and I have put Dolly’s name on the Bridgelist. I know that Dolly and Deeb are going to be waiting for The Man and myself when we can finally join them.

Some of you might say – all this over a pet?

I say – No. It’s just not a pet.

It’s the loss of an unconditional love that I had for 16 years.

Anyone who has loved a pet knows what I am talking about. The love you get back from an animal is unconditional. They don’t have to love us. They could just be animals. But if they do – then you are blessed.

And I was blessed. Believe me.

After years of abuse and illness – to have this kind of love was a gift to my heart.

Today my brother arrives to take home his 3 cats that I have been babysitting. I know that tomorrow the silence will stretch out and hammer home the emptiness of this house and of my heart. In a way I am looking forward to it. Then I can perhaps deal with this loss. Maybe not.

Every night I have gone to bed and looked for Dolly. I’ve caught myself listening for her footsteps and I’ve had to stop myself from getting out of bed and going to get her. I have a small clump of her fur that I hold in my hand when I go to sleep. I often wake up still holding it or it is under my pillow. It gives me a tiny bit of peace as I stare into the darkness.

So what is grief?

Grief is what I see when I look in the mirror - green eyes awash in watery seas of sadness.
Grief are the lines on my face and the way my mouth droops at the corners.
Grief is my heart – aching – yet still beating - reminding me every second of loss.
Grief is being suicidal and then stepping back from the abyss – but remembering the aching to take that step and have the grief go away.
Grief is realizing that forever is just the doorstep to eternity.
Grief is tomorrow. Grief is me.

I know it will get better. I do know that.

Why?

Why?

Why does love have to hurt so much?

Why does it have to be so fleeting?

Why does love make your heart cleave in half and fall apart? What do you do with that huge hole that is left?

Why does love strangle your brain with emotions that should never occur to anyone?

Who decided that this was love? Who decided that we are just marionettes in some master game? Who decided to taunt us with fleeting happiness? Who thought life should be something that is built up – then smashed when it is going good – then taunted with the hope of something in the future?

Why do I just want to lie down and give up one last breath and let go?

Why do I lie awake all night and stare through the dark at nothing?

Why are tears endless?

Why does everything I love get taken away when I have had so little in my life?

Am I a bad person? Did I do something to deserve this kind of hell on earth?

Why and who am I angry with or at? Me? God? Is there a God? If there is – why is he so cruel? Why is life so unfair?

Why put these angels here on earth only to take them away so quickly and so cruelly?

Why give us hearts at all if they are only toys to break at a whim?

Why do we do this?

What is death? Do we go somewhere afterwards? Do we wait somewhere on the other side of that horizon? Do we all get together afterwards and get to be happy forever? Is happy a true feeling? Is love?

WHY? DAMN IT! WHY?

Why does love hurt so much? Will the pain really ever go away?

Why?

Is this some kind of insane grieving or just some kind of insanity? (at this point I really don't know)
And do I really want to know the answer?

Goodbye My Dolly

Passed away at 8pm October 27, 2008


Taking with her my heart for always and forever.

A Much Needed Break

The Man and I have not had a holiday for two years. He is burnt out from a very stressful job and I am burnt out from watching him get into this state and from Dolly's condition.

I believe it was 6 months ago that The Man handed me 2 tickets to see Celine Dion in Vancouver. He had tried to get tickets for Edmonton which is only a 2 hour drive from here - but they were sold out. So he opted for Vancouver. At the time we didn't know any of this would be going on or those tickets wouldn't have been purchased.

Some of you may ask why we would want to see Celine Dion. The Man goes to watch my face and to see how happy a concert like this makes me. As for me? I admire Ms. Dion greatly. I remember when she was a young girl and they played her first release (in French) on the radio. They said to watch this girl as she was going to go places. I have admired her dedication to her craft and to her husband and now her son. She has gone for what she wanted and she has more than excelled at it. Being Canadian adds to my admiration for we don't have a ton of people in this country who have gone out and shone like Ms. Dion. Then of course there is her ability to sing. She has an incredible set of pipes on her.

We went to see her show in Vegas at Ceasar's Palace and we were both blown away. It was incredible! We didn't know what to expect when we sat down in that unbelievable theater, but I sat there with tears streaming down my face for half of the performance and my mouth open in wonder at the other half. I know she sometimes seems like a hick who is overdoing the emotions - but to watch her face at the end of the show and see how touched she was by our admiration - well.... I believed the tears she had in her eyes were real. Those are hard to fake.

So now that she is touring again we thought it would be neat to see what kind of show she puts on out on the road. We'll be finding out on Tuesday night at the BC Place in Vancouver.

As it works out, my brother is leaving for his two-week holiday on the same day we are leaving for Vancouver. He has 3 cats. Two of them are beautiful Himalayans and of course his cats are his children as well.

So his three cats arrived on Thursday and they will remain here while we go away. My dear friend who lives right down the street and who was my roommate on the hall is going to look after my brother's cats while we take Dolly with us. Bless her soul for her generosity. My friend has such a huge heart and I know she will look after these precious angels like they were her own. Friends like that are hard to find. I remember very well the doctors telling us that making friends with a fellow nutcase is the worst thing in the world to do. We have proved them wrong on so many counts.

As for taking Dolly with us? There is no way I could leave her behind - even with the best of care. I would fall apart being away from her and not knowing how she is doing. Dolly has slept with her head on my pillow and her little furry body spooned into my chest - every single night for 16 years. We both think it's the best part of the day.

I actually got up the nerve to take her to the vet myself on Wednesday. Her problem at the moment is constipation and she is on enough laxatives to clean out a horse. On top of that she needs to be hydrated to give her enough fluids to help move things along and of course it makes her nauseous. I am unable to do something like that. My nerves just won't let me. So The Man went over and got a lesson on how to do it and he has been giving her fluids twice a day and will continue to do so until she poops regularly. Injecting fluids under the skin just makes me nauseous myself.

I was shaking so hard when I took her into the vets and of course it made her shake as well. Even with the xanax that the doctor prescibed for me - well - I'm just getting by.

I've got multiple whammies to deal with concerning this trip. I am terrified of leaving the barn for extended periods of time. I can go out and come back in as long as it is someplace familiar that I am going. If not then I get all panicky and nauseous. So that is one. Dolly's health and the fact that she has never travelled anywhere except to the vets is two. The third is the fact that I won't be able to keep up my production knitting while we travel and that the date of the huge craft shows looms closer by the second.

The only thing that keeps me sort of safe is the fact that we are towing our little house behind us and we can stop at any time and I can go and sit in it. Our little 13 foot trailer is going to be right behind our car and The Man is going to be sitting right beside me and Dolly is going to be on my lap.

Now if all this sounds a bit muddled it's because I didn't sleep last night with the anxiety of it all. Today I have to pack the trailer and prepare food and somehow fit some knitting into my day. I will be taking yarn to work on bears while we drive. We will be picking up my 90 yr. old aunt who lives in Vancouver and taking her over to Vancouver Island and dropping her off at her 79 yr. old brother's. They are the only 2 children left out of 5. We will visit with them both then until Tuesday morning and then we will catch the ferry back to Vancouver and go to the concert. Providing Dolly's health remains stable, we will spend Wednesday just shopping on Robson Street and Granville Island. Then we'll wander back home. It's a minimum 11 hour drive as the crow flies - we'll be taking much longer than that.

All of that sounds lovely doesn't it? You can't imagine how stressed I am over it. Fortunately The Man recognizes that in me and he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight - trying to relieve my anxiety. If I had my druthers - I'd have Ms. Dion give a concert in the barn and I'd be a happy gal.

So all of this to tell you I will be away from blogging for a week.

Plus - I want to thank all of you for your lovely comments and your thoughts about Dolly. I wish I could put into words how much every single comment means to me. Thank you.

Catch you on the flip side!

My Dolly

This is Dolly.

She is about 16 years old and I have had her since she was a kitten.

We lost her brother last year just before Christmas because of renal failure.

Now Dolly has been diagnosed with it.

She isn't feeling very well these days and has lost a lot of weight. Medications that the doctors had her on have killed her appetite and I am struggling with my anxiety over this. Struggling so much that I have broken down and asked my own doctor for something for anxiety as I am having trouble coping. Part of this is due to my past mental breakdown. I always knew there would be something that might trigger it again and Dolly's illness is it.

She doesn't seem to be in any pain and I won't go through what we did with Deeb last year. It is just not fair.

At the moment I am doing everything I can for Dolly and I don't feel much like blogging. When the mood strikes and perhaps while Dolly is napping - I'll get on with the story. Until then - pray for Dolly and for me too.

'The Man' Tales - Cid's Room

There is a beautiful dark green bedroom in the barn that is called ‘Cid’s Room’. It is filled with furniture that belonged to my beloved friend. Cid’s large bed is covered with his own bedspread and the matching curtains hover beside a view that Cid loved. This was his room when he came to stay for 3 months as his health slipped from his grasp. Now it held his ‘lawyer’s library’ – a beautiful piece of furniture with glass doors. All his books are neatly on the shelves and his wallet and shaving brush and other paraphernalia are displayed. His favourite hats are perched up against his collection of vases and the hats look like they are waiting for him to snatch one of them up and pop it onto his silvery hair.

Another of Cid’s cupboards holds more of his personal treasures like his shaving kit and binoculars. Warm pictures of Italy hang on the walls and there’s a dreamy picture of two kids fishing off a dock. It hangs over the bed – a reminder to me of Cid’s dreams.

It’s Cid’s room. That’s all there is to it. And it was here that we tried to make Cid’s two beloved cats feel at home. I had hoped that Cid’s smell would calm them and remind them of the man who had taken them everywhere he went. If only they could hear his voice on the three phone messages I had unknowingly saved. And even though I listened to those messages over and over – they couldn’t hear the voice that they longed for.

What we didn’t know was that both of his cats would feel the same way I did. His male cat – Rigel – pined away for Cid. He grew thinner by the day and hardly ate at all. Within 3 months D had to take him to the vet and have him put to sleep. I thought at the time that I should go with Rigel and asked to be put to sleep so I could be with Cid as well. I rocked precariously on the boundary of insanity with the pain of losing Cid.

His female cat – Sarah – was the meanest cat I have ever come across. She would rather claw your eyes out than have you look at her. It was so obvious how much she missed Cid but her claws and temper kept her isolated and there was no way to console her. Six months later she was gone too and I felt like such a failure. I felt I had let Cid down.

Once more my mother came to the rescue. She got me out of the house and away from the endless crying and back into the family business. She didn’t care if I sat in the backroom and cried my eyes out – just as long as I wasn’t doing it at home by myself. I started to take an interest again in the retail part of the business and managing the staff. I even started to go out on the sales floor and sell a few coats. I tried to save my tears for Cid’s room where I could go and smell him and feel him around me. So many times D came and joined me and we sat with our arms around each other and missed our friend.

Eventually we were able to talk about him once more. The memories started to come out and every time we saw a hawk we said it was Cid. He had loved them so much because they were big enough for him to be able to see with his poor eyesight. I thought that now he glided on the wind and saw the world through hawk’s eyes and reveled in it. When they flew over the car I waved and said ‘Hi Cid’. It is now just something we do. Back in Cid’s room a hawk sits on one of the cupboards. If you squeeze it just right you hear that high cry they give and I can envision Cid – flying over the mountains and coulees – and grinning from ear to ear.

Cid’s room. My haven in the storm of life.